


Hisomiya - Deep Shadow

by SonicoSenpai



Series: Hisomiya [1]
Category: Lamento -BEYOND THE VOID-
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Ending, Anger, Aphrodisiacs, Auction, Auctions, Bad dental work, Bathing/Washing, Beating, Brothels, Caning, Canon-Typical Violence, Claw Pulling, Clueless Konoe, Coming Untouched, Coming from Punishment, Coming from Spanking, Consensual Sex, Declawing, Demon Deals, Demon Sex, Dental Torture, Devils, Enemas, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Forced Prostitution, Grooming, I have it out for Konoe, I'm Going to Hell, I'm Sorry, Konoe on Display, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Makeover, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Non-Consensual Spanking, Non-Consensual Violence, Oh My God, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Orgasm Denial, Paddling, Poor Konoe, Punishment, Rage, Rape/Non-con Elements, Really I'm not sure this can get much worse, Sadism, Sex Slave Auction, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Slavery, Sexual Violence, Tooth Pulling, Torture, Training, Trauma, Violence, Weirdly Consensual for this Universe, What Have I Done, and if this shit is therapeutic you should see what I pay my therapist, belt spanking, really it's therapeutic, writing as therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-06-04 20:17:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 50,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15154841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SonicoSenpai/pseuds/SonicoSenpai
Summary: Instead of escaping Karou on his own, Tokino's father, the merchant, trades his goods to help Konoe escape his fate as the sacrifice of his village. However, in exchange, Konoe ends up getting traded to the largest brothel in Ransen. Tokino swears he will save all his money to get Konoe out of this predicament.Konoe is grateful for having his life saved. After all, he knows nothing of the city, of Ransen, of brothels, of females, or of sex. And he's about to learn it all very quickly.This fanfic is based on Nitro+Chiral's characters from Lamento - Beyond the Void, and I'd say it will have some dark, non-con stuff in it. It may feature some redeeming moments, but if you don't like the bad endings (like the devil endings) in Lamento, maybe don't read this fiction. It's not for you. I was craving an outlet for some really, really awful stuff, and didn't want it leaking over into my school-boy fanfic.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'll try to keep the tags updated. And trigger warnings will be posted in the chapter summaries. But really, this one is dark and unrealistic. It's Sisa, and Konoe is cursed, in more ways than one, in this fanfic. 
> 
> Seriously, I feel like a terrible, terrible person for writing this, and it's only chapter one.

I am in a dark red room, and I’m not alone. 

I tell myself for the fifth time today that this could have been worse—much, _much_ worse. I was scheduled to be my village’s sacrifice today—killed and eaten as food by the other cats. But when the village elder saw the curse that mysteriously appeared on my body—four tattoos on my lower arms and legs last night—as well as the fact that my previously white and brown-tipped ears and tail have switched to jet-black—they didn’t _want_ to eat me. Instead, they decided to _kill_ me. 

To my utter relief, my merchant friend Tokino showed up at my village today _with_ his father just when I was about to be killed, and his father spoke to the village elder on my behalf. He said cats my size and age, with my markings, black coloring, and hooked tail, sell for a lot of money in the city of Ransen. While he didn’t have the funds to pay for me outright, he _did_ have merchandise, including food, which he used to cover my cost and save my life. 

In exchange, Tokino’s father brought me to the biggest brothel in Ransen. He explained along the way that I should be able to work off my debt in no time at all, although Tokino was in tears. At the time, I didn’t understand—isn’t a brothel a place to find young _female_ cats? What would they want with me? 

But Tokino’s father assured me that this was the only way to save my life. Tokino said he would save his money, talk to some local merchants which whom they do business to see if they couldn’t get me out of there sooner. His father looked terribly serious and apologetic, but I was still very thankful for him being willing to save my life. 

I was amazed when I first saw the city of Ransen. I’d never seen so many cats in the same place. Tokino's father had me wear gauntlets over the markings on my arms, a hood over my black ears (black cats are very uncommon in the area), and ordered his son to bid me farewell. 

Tokino hugged me tightly—and for a while, I enjoyed his scent lingering on my shoulder, but I can no longer smell it now—he pressed his nose to my shoulder and allowed me to do the same—purring loudly. I could see tears in his eyes, but I smiled, thanking him for his help. He whispered in my ear that he would defy his father and visit if he could gather the funds, then he reluctantly took his leave.

When we first arrived at the brothel, which was a huge, strange, ancient building, leftover from the Two-Cane population, our ancestors, the merchant knocked at the door and gave a password when asked where he was from—“Hisomiya.” 

When we entered, the entire building was oddly decorated—overwhelmingly red—the walls, the lights, the ceiling, all the decor, giving it an oppressive feeling.

“Are you the owner?” the merchant asked.

“I am.” He eyed me suspiciously, looking at me up and down. He had a strange face, with oddly plucked eyebrows, and a matching thin mustache, and long brown hair styled in two singular curls on either side of his face.

“I have some merchandise that might interest you.”

“Ah. I see. Come this way, please.”

Tokino’s father had warned me that things might get unpleasant, but for his sake, I would have to bear it. I was still thankful for being saved, so I obeyed.

We entered a small empty room off the side of the hallway, and the owner asked, “Might I examine the merchandise you have to offer?”

The merchant indicated for me to remove my hood and gauntlets, and my boots as well. I exposed the shameful markings on my wrists, which seemed to almost writhe under the dim red lighting—my newly jet black fur on my tail fluffing out in discomfort.

I kept my face pointed down at my feet, but I heard the owner inhale sharply.

“A black cat, with blonde hair, such pale skin, and not of Kira! What sort of experience does he have?” 

“None at all, though he is probably due for his first heat. He was about to be killed in his hometown of Karou when I bought him. Notice his hooked tail and plush fur.”

“Oh! We have clients interested in this kind of thing.”

I felt him walking around me, and a hand picked up and pulled my tail, brushing the fur on the tip of my tail. I shivered.

“What, can you feel in this part of your tail?”

I nodded.

“How unusual.” He grabbed my arm and brushed his fingers against one of the markings on arm. “Have you always had these markings?”

“No. I woke up with them one morning.”

The owner nodded, walked around me once more and lifted up my face, meeting my gaze. “Show me your teeth.” 

I smiled widely and fakely.

“Open your mouth.”

I obeyed, completely humiliated now, as he tipped my chin forward, looking inside my mouth carefully. I could feel my cheeks getting pink. 

“He has a pretty face, almost like a girl’s, and he blushes easily. His ears are overly large, too, like a child’s, and that will sell. He has a slim figure with a nice shape. Come, let’s talk. You, stay here. I’ll send someone for you. Leave your boots, hood, and your gauntlets.” 

Tokino’s father looked at me apologetically—almost heartbreakingly—and gave my arm a squeeze. He had promised to save any extra earnings he made on my sale to purchase me back, whatever that meant.

And now, I find myself here, alone with the brothel’s groomer. He is _not_ a nice cat, it turns out, and this is probably what Tokino’s father was apologizing for.

The first thing he does is ask me abruptly, “Right- or left-handed?”

“Right-handed.”

He immediately grabs my right hand—and my eyes have finally adjusted to the low light. He pulls my hand up and flattens it against a table in the room.

“Look, we keep all our new pets’ claws trimmed close to keep them from scratching the clients. If you scratch a client, your claw _will_ get pulled. It won’t _ever_ grow back. Your choice is to let me trim them gently by extending your claws on your own, _or_ I will _force_ you to extend it and trim them that way. Which do you choose?”

If I let him trim my claws, I will basically be defenseless. He’s a much bigger cat than me, but without my claws, I’m vulnerable. I don’t know how to fight without claws. I stare him down, thinking about the decision, but don’t extend my claws.

“OK, we’ll do this the hard way, then. Too bad, since you’re pretty cute.”

He forces my hand flat against the table—he is very strong—and I’m terrified to see he is holding a mallet in his other hand. Shit! I try to pull away, but I am too late—and I scream in pain when the mallet crashes down on the back of my hand—which, of course, makes me extend my claws and keeps them fully extended, throbbing in pain.

He takes that time to trim my thumb and forefinger— _short_ —short enough so they burn since he clips them so close to the base. Tears are still running down my face from the pain of the mallet, and he looks up at me. 

“Are you going to allow me to trim your other claws _without_ misbehaving?” 

I can’t move my right hand yet, so he trims my middle finger, but when he gets to my ring finger, I strike out with my left hand, scratching his face—hard enough to draw blood. 

“You little _shit_.”

He growls lowly, wrestles my arm to the table, and takes the mallet to my left hand, and I yelp in pain again.

Both my hands are temporarily disabled now—but at _least_ his face is dripping blood. He hurt me first!

“Why are you _doing_ this?” My voice comes out strained, gasping between my sobs. 

“You need to learn your place and _fast_.” He trims my remaining claws quickly, holding onto the claw of my pinky with the clippers for a moment. Before he trims in, he gives it a firm yank—and I scream in pain. He doesn’t pull it out but gives me a hint of the pain that pulling out a claw might cause. “If I were a client, and you did this to me, you would lose the claw from your hand. How does this feel? Do you understand?” 

He trims it, close to the base, making it sore, and then pulls it again—and I cry out again—afraid he might actually pull it out this time. The pain literally brings me to my knees, and I cannot stop my tears. 

“ _Learn your place_.”

To my horror, after my nails are clipped, my clothes are roughly removed.

“We need to bathe and groom you. You won’t be seeing these again.” He strips off my apron and sash, my shirt and undershirt, my pants and my underwear, leaving me naked and shivering on the floor.

“Let’s take you to the showers.”

He attaches a collar to my neck—it’s a leather collar with a metal attachment—I’ve never worn anything that causes me this much shame, and it has a heavy weight to it, and it bothers me. It also has a metal chain attached to it, which allows him to lead me around.

He pulls me out of the room into a private hallway, in which I see several female cats wandering around. I’ve never seen a young female cat. Ever. Their voices are so strangely high pitched, and they are making all kinds of strange cooing and tittering sounds. Uwah—I’m naked and not making a good first impression. My ears lower, and I desperately keep my hands in front of my private parts.

“Ah, who’s this? He’s cute!”

“A boy? We have a boy! So young!”

“Look, he’s still so shy! Aw, so cute!”

“A black kitty? Is he from Kira? His skin is so pale!”

“When did we get one of those?”

“More competition?”

“Oh—can we break him in? He looks totally inexperienced!”

“No touching!” The groomer barks. “The owner is auctioning off his virginity at the end of his debut week, so none of you can touch him.”

“Ah—he’s a _virgin_! And with the mating season coming up, won’t that be fun, girls?”

Auctioning off... I hear the words with terror in my heart, and then I think—gods, maybe it would be better to have died in my village?

“Don’t drag those feet! Come along, get moving,” the groomer barks at me.

The bath _isn’t_ a bath. It’s a rough shower, in which every part of my body is scrubbed down thoroughly with a brush, and all my fur is combed through as though he’s looking for bugs. I’m washed with soap and some sort of conditioner is combed through my fur, which leaves it shiny and lush. I am still not used to the color of my tail, and when I see it out of the corner of my eye, it frightens me—at first I think it’s a snake (I shiver—it reminds me of those horrible nightmares, and my stomach hurts), or maybe it belongs to another cat. And those markings on my arms and legs—they are out in the open now—right in front of my face. They look alive.

“Aren’t you afraid I might be cursed?” I ask.

“We are _all_ cursed here,” the groomer says, as he pulls his fingers through the fur on my tail, making me shiver. I am not used to having anyone touch me. “And your markings are unique enough to draw the attention of quite a few clients. You’re our only boy, though—I hope you can earn back your price before you lose this innocent look of yours, though. I don’t know what he was thinking.”

“Earn it back how?” I ask.

The groomer shoots me a look like I’m the country cat I am, sighing. “You’re going to do just fine here. Just do as you’re told, with a smile, and quit that senseless scratching and biting.”

I realize no one has asked me my name, and I’m truly being handled as though I’m a piece of merchandise. I’m definitely starting to _feel_ like a piece of merchandise.

“Let’s finish up here. I think you’re fine the way you are—I don’t think you require any waxing at this point. Let’s just run a comb through your hair and you should be good to go. Then we will soften you up a bit. That’s my favorite part.” I hear a little amusement in his tone, which perks up my ears a little.

“Soften me up?”

“Yes. It will teach you some manners, our house rules, and teach you not to talk so much—like only when you’re asked a direct question. You talk _way_ too much now.” 

What? What does he mean? I’ve hardly said anything at all. I wait patiently and obediently as he runs the brush through my hair, my fur, and my tail. I’m shivering in the cold, however, as I’m still naked. Won’t they provide me with at least a robe? The females I saw—they were _beautifully_ dressed—and I’d never seen so many females before. They look so small and delicate—their outfits were so varied. Some looked like intricate robes that covered their entire bodies, draping with fabric sleeves down to the floor and trailing behind them in beautiful silks—I couldn’t take my eyes off those outfits—and some were dressed in sparkling sequins exposing their legs above their knees, wearing shoes with teetering high heels, the likes of which I’d never seen, feathers draped around their necks...

I’m pulled along by my collar into another room, walking down the halls again, my neck craning, gawking helplessly at the females. Their hair is styled intricately—I see another female in one of those strange robes. It drapes low at the nape of her neck, and _just_ her neck is exposed. Her skin is completely white. Her lips are painted red and her hair is black, but the fur on her ears is white. Her hair is styled in a stiff updo, not a hair out of place, combs dripping jewels jingling when she walks. She almost glides rather than walks. I see her shoes, which are platform sandals split at the toe, and she has pure white socks that cover her ankles, and the fabric of the robe follows her hips as she moves. She is tantalizing—her walk is like a dance. And she smiles at me gently when she passes, tipping her head a little.

“Ah—that is Sayuri,” the groomer says. “She is a popular oiran here. You have probably never seen one, and it looks like she is your type from your response.”

She carries an instrument with her—a long-necked stringed instrument.

“Does she play?” I ask softly. Mother told me long ago that my father sang and played an instrument like that. 

“She does. She sings and plays. Once you become a regular here, perhaps you will be able to go to parties with her. Or as a reward, you may be permitted to spend time with her. I will let the owner know you like her.”

“I would love to hear her play and sing.”

“You will do much _more_  than that with her,” the groomer says, and my ears become hot, and I feel a blush rising in my cheeks. “Come now, you must realize what sort of establishment this is. She made more with her debut than any other female here. Our goal is to have you top that, and with proper training, you will do that. But you have some work ahead of you.”

“My debut?”

“The first time you serve a client.”

“Serve a client?”

The groomer sighs exasperatedly once more. We’ve entered a second room, this one different from the first. It has a contraption of sorts on the floor. “Kneel.”

He yanks my chain hard, making me comply. I see there are restraints on the floor, within which my wrists are placed, palms up. My hands are still quite sore from the mallet, so I obey when he pushes them into the restraints. I’m exhausted from the journey from Karou and all the strange touching, though I’m thankful to be off my feet. I don’t feel quite so exposed this way. My arms are stretched out to their full length in front of me, and I end up leaning forward slightly.

Then the groomer walks behind me and places my feet in similar restraints. He explains, “This will make it easier for you to remain still. Eventually, you may be able to take the softening without the use of these restraints, but for now, these will help you comply.”

That sounds good to me, I think, although, once my ankles are restrained, they are pulled out behind me, stretching me out a little more, though not quite flat. I find my body starting to shake from the effort of holding myself in place, and the groomer suggests I simply relax, but that makes me push my ass up in the air, and I don’t like that position. It feels much too vulnerable.

Lastly, he grabs my tail roughly, pulling it hard behind me. There are two leather cuffs attached—one at the base and one around the middle—and then a kind of strap that attaches to my waist, wrapping around my hips. He feels free to touch me, stretching out my tail to its full length and severely restricting its movement. This is by far the most intrusive touch I’ve received yet, and I struggle against it. It makes me feel I can’t express my emotions, making me feel rather desperate. I start to feel a little bit sweaty.

I look at the groomer, and he has a rather pleasant smile on his face. I can’t see what he is holding in his hands.

“Are you ready to begin, little one?”

I want to get the hell out of here—but then I remember I was supposed to be dead this morning. My body is shaking with fear.

“The purpose of ‘softening,’ is to train our new recruits to be the obedient slaves that our clients wish to see. Now, you—you’re a slightly different case, and you may be permitted to be slightly wild with a client. However, you are never permitted to scratch, bite, hit, or injure him in any way. Is that clear?”

I say nothing.

“When I ask you a question, I require an audible answer.”

I still say nothing, and then I hear a swishing sound in the air and hear a loud slap, which makes my ears twitch. Right afterward, I feel a stinging, burning sensation on my ass—right where my thighs and ass meet—and it was hard enough to make my body jolt forward. I yelp in response to the sensation, which creeps up my cheeks and down my legs, and I try to move my hands back to rub myself, but of course, I’m restrained. I can’t move or defend myself, nor can I rub out the pain—I’m forced to simply endure it.

“I asked you, is it clear that you are never to injure a client? We have a long list of items to go through before we can display you this evening, so I suggest you submit. I can last a lot longer than you can. A nicely reddened ass will look gorgeous to our clientele, you realize, and give them ideas as to what _they_ might do to you for your debut.”

“I understand,” I say quietly. My ass is on _fire_.

“Failure to comply with the rules of the house will result in severe punishment, which includes whipping,” I receive another slap on my ass to demonstrate, and I yell in pain—it _really_ hurts!— “removing of the offending claws, should you scratch a client, pulling of fangs should you bite a client in _any_ capacity, even if you are _asked_ to do so, and so forth. The owner is very creative.”

I am listening with my ears perked up attentively. Pulling my claws? My fangs? I for sure don’t want to be whipped. But—why would I scratch or bite a client? What exactly are they going to be doing to me?

“What exactly is my job here?”

“Excuse me?” The groomer grabs my chin, tilting my neck at an unnatural angle. “Do you really not know? You will be fulfilling any desire our clients have—most of them sexual. This is a brothel. Do you honestly not understand what a brothel is, little one?”

I’ve never been to one before, and I wasn’t sure, but now—my nudity makes sense. I swallow thickly. Also—Tokino’s tears, his desperation, and anger make sense. And his father’s apologetic attitude.

_Oh, my gods._

I feel panic rising in my chest, and my heart starts beating rapidly. I can’t be here. This is _not_ the place for me—I am remembering one of the nightmares—and I feel something squirming in my belly—that yellow snake—the slimy feeling on my skin, and those strange waves of pleasure that pooled in my body—and I realize, this is _not_ the place for me.

“Oh, the look on your face—it’s _priceless_ right now. You look like a mouse caught in a trap, little one. If you can keep that expression, you will be our most popular whore.” 

A _whore_? Am _I_ going to be a whore?

I feel my entire body shaking.

“Back to the house rules. We strive for obedience. When you are called, you need to obey without delay, without hesitation. We do not care about your preferences.”

His voice sounds like it’s coming from inside a tin can. I can hardly hear it over the ringing in my ears, which are flattened against my head. He’s dropped my chin, and I lower my face to the floor.

“When asked a direct question, you need to answer audibly, as you have learned. Otherwise, we prefer our whores to be quiet, especially around the guests. It makes them more comfortable.”

My mouth is dry, and my teeth start to chatter—I wonder if he can hear them clicking in my mouth. Why am I here? Why am I restrained like this? I look up, taking an inventory of my body and its current condition. I’ve been thoroughly washed and combed, and now something called “softening” is being done to me. What exactly is going on here? Is he _training_ me? I am being treated like an animal!

“For now, you have _special_ status. Your virginity will be auctioned off at the end of your debut, usually one or two weeks, probably toward Antou, since that is a popular time for us. The brothel owner will have you on display for guests to observe your charms themselves, usually in the foyer when they visit their regulars. Hopefully, they will fall for you and you will generate interest. Word will spread that we have a cursed, black cat here—a young virgin boy—who is a little rough around the edges, in desperate need of training. I think that’s how we will market you.”

Market me? Like a piece of meat?

“Once your auction is concluded, you will spend the night with the winner, and then you will continue servicing clients. If you please your client, the owner may reward you. If you displease him, you will be _severely_ punished—and keep in mind, the client has the right to punish you as well. So it will serve you to please him.”

My heart feels like it is breaking.

“My job is to ‘soften’ you for your position here, mold you into the kitten we want to see, compliant and obedient. We don’t want to see drawn claws or bared fangs, and _never_ any growling or hissing. Those behaviors will result in immediate and public whipping. Do you understand?”

Did he speak of whipping again? What is this place?

The belt comes down on my ass again—it stings something _fierce_ —I yelp in pain. It burns down my thighs, almost reaching my ankles. I want to rub my ass so much, but I can’t move my arms. 

“Yes, yes! I understand,” I exclaim, forgetting that I was supposed to answer aloud in my distraction. He has wandered around to the back of my body, out of my sight.

“So, to help remind you that you belong here and that there will be no escaping for you, I will place a reminder on your feet. Count to ten for me, will you?”

I don’t hear anything—but suddenly, a sharp, stinging blow strikes the soles of my feet, burning them like fire—and I cry out loud.

“Ah!” I scream. What was that?? Did he say count? “Um, one?” I desperately yell. Maybe he won’t hit me again if I count, I think, but as soon as I say the number, the blow comes down again—hitting both soles of my feet a second time, sending a stinging sensation into the knuckles of my toes.

“Two!” I scream. My toes curl up defenselessly, and I try to pull my ankles away, but I can’t since they are restrained. I can’t even see what he is using to hit me with. It isn’t the belt—that’s for sure. The pain is much more precise, much tighter, much thinner—much more direct.

“Ah—Three!” I yell after another blow attacks my poor feet, right at the arch, and the pain spreads to the tips of my toes, pooling in my toenails, and then strangely starts spreading up to my calves. Right afterward, another blow comes down. 

“Four,” I groan—desperately—not even half-way through if he did indeed ask me to count to ten. I lean my body forward, trying to stop the pain from creeping up past my knees, which start to ache, but the next blow—“Five, ah!”—creeps past my knees. I press my stomach against my thighs in desperation.

“Six— _please_ ,” I beg. I don’t think I can take much more, as the pain creeps higher up my legs into my thighs. The burning pain seems to curl around the inside of my thighs, even though the blows are still landing directly on the arches of my feet. 

“Ah!” With that blow—I can’t quite catch my breath, and tears are falling. I’m desperately afraid of the pain creeping up into my groin, and I can’t breathe for fear. 

“If you stop counting, I will start from one,” the groomer warns. “This is for your own good—to teach you your place here. Learn it well.”

“Seven,” I say quietly, anger boiling in my stomach. _None_ of this is for my _own_ good. I am boiling with rage, and I feel the red snake roiling around inside me. Was that _not_ just a dream? Was it _real_? The sweat pouring down my face is anger, _wrath_ , and I want to bite and scratch the man causing me this pain.

“Ah—eight, nine!” I scream when two blows come down in quick succession, shooting pain into my groin. I can’t protect myself from it—it literally takes my breath away. 

“Ten—Ah,” I breathe in relief that this punishment is over, and I sob loudly.

I feel a hand stroking my ass softly, which takes me by surprise, but it feels invasive. I can’t move from my spot, however, with my tail and ankles restrained as they are. I want it off me, and I flick my ears angrily.

“The sooner you learn to submit, the better off you will be,” the words are whispered in my ears. He has walked around in front of me, holding a slender cane in his hands. “Your next lesson has to do with controlling the urge to strike out with your hands.”

I look up fearfully from my sobs, tears still streaming down my face, my legs aching. I get a terrible sense of foreboding from the gleeful tone in his voice.

“Please,” I beg. “ _Please_ , no more.”

“Right now, you are probably wishing you had submitted to me when I trimmed your nails, aren’t you? You wouldn’t have to suffer through this, then. What a poor little kitty!” His voice sounds oddly tender.

I feel a hand stroking my ears and I flick them down, feeling disgusted. I know my begging and pleading is useless, but it falls from my lips just the same, one more time. 

“Please.”

“Again, count to ten.”

Right before my wide eyes, I watch as the slim cane flicks down sharply against my opened palms, which are stretched out and restrained helplessly in front of me. I can’t pull them back, and my trimmed claws fully extend at the first blow—painfully.

I cry out loudly, tears falling immediately, and I sob softly, “One.”

Again, the cane flicks against my palms, pain shooting into the tips of my fingers and into my claws. I flinch and twitch my ears back at the sound.

“Two,” the word falls hopelessly from my mouth.

The next blow sends pain shooting into my wrists, it seems because my fingers' capacity to feel pain is filled, which makes me fight against the restraints holding me there. I wonder if the restraints will bruise my wrists. I watch as the strange tattooed markings writhe on my arms.

“Ah! Three!” I wince.

I shut my eyes for the next blow which sends pain up to my elbows, making me shudder painfully.

“Four,” I murmur quietly. It seems not to hurt so much if I don't see it coming.

I keep my eyes closed and the next blow shoots up past my elbows into my shoulders. I cry out loudly. That one hurt!

“Please! _Please_! Five!”

I feel my hair grabbed, my neck is craned upward, and my eyes fly open.

“Open your eyes and watch. This is the punishment you’ve earned. _Watch_ what you’ve earned.”

I obey, and right then, another blow strikes my poor palms. They are covered in bright red stripes, swelling slightly, my fingers are swollen and useless.

“Six,” I say quietly. “Please! Isn’t this enough?”

The next blow falls mercilessly, and I feel the pain burning in my collarbones. Again, it astounds me that I’m feeling pain there from blows applied to my palms.

“Ah! Seven!” I’m sobbing out the numbers now.

The next three blows fall one after the other in fast succession, and I scream in response to each, my body flinching each time.

“Ah, ah, ah! Eight, nine, ten!” I burst into tears and rest my head on my arms in front of me, bathing my arms with tears.

Again, I feel a soft caress on my bare ass, and I hear him whisper in my ear, “You did very well, little one. _Remember_ this helpless feeling. This is who you are now. You are completely at my mercy. Remember this next time you feel you want to scratch or bite or talk out of turn.”

He moves away slightly and says, “This is part of your daily training. If you perform very well for the clients, managing to attract a lot of interest in yourself, we might be able to skip part of this daily softening. But for the most part, you should consider this part of your daily wardrobe.”

My wardrobe? Daily? What?

“Why?” I look up. “Why on earth would _anyone_ want to see me like this?”

The groomer looks at me, shocked to hear me speaking.

“Did I permit you to speak? Did I permit you to ask a question? I certainly did not! It looks like we are not yet finished here, then. I _thought_ I would take it easy on you since it’s your first day, but we can keep going if you _insist_.”

My body starts to shake and shiver in fear.

“No— _please_ —I’m sorry—I just—I didn’t _know_ —I was confused— _please_ ,” I beg.

“Begging will get you nowhere, of course,” he walks around me, so I can’t see what he is doing—I can’t even imagine what is coming next, and my fear multiplies. The light in this room is so weird—it’s red—why is everything _red_? “Whores should keep their mouths shut unless asked a direct question. Again, let me hear you count.” 

I feel a sharp sting on my ass this time—and my gods—it hurts so much worse than the strap he used earlier. It makes all the fur on my body stand straight up, and I scream out loudly in pain.

“Ah! _Please_ , I can’t!” 

“Count,” he says firmly, and he hits me a second time.

I scream again, “Please—no— _please_!” 

“I _asked_ you to count,” his voice is lowered. I feel his hand rubbing my ass, and I can feel that there are lines left from the cane. “Calm yourself and _count_.”

I try to take a deep breath, and I try to count, “Two,” but he hits me once more—a third time—and I scream again—and he sighs.

“You are to begin again. Start over.”

He hits me again, right at my sit spot—it sends a stinging, burning, and tingling sensation through my body—and while this is the fourth blow, I cry out again loudly and say hopelessly, “One?”

“That’s better.” Then the cane comes down again, in the same spot—sending that strange tingling sensation through my groin, along with extreme burning and stinging through my cheeks and thighs. It reminds me of the yellow snake roiling around in my belly for some reason.

“Two,” I say softly.

The next blow comes down across my cheeks, and I scream again. No tingling there, none at all—just pain, sharp pain.

“Three,” I say, my voice quivering with tears. My ass feels large and swollen.

“Four,” even more quietly, after the scream for the next blow.

“Five,” whispered after the next, which sends pain shooting around the front of my hips.

“Six,” I sound hopeless now, my body shaking and exhausted.

“Ah—Seven!” That one was aimed at my upper thighs, which hurts like nothing I’ve felt so far. That skin is defenseless and I wasn’t expecting it.

“Eight,” I’m swallowing my pride now, sobbing openly, wishing this was over now, wondering how I even got here, wondering if I might be better off dead. I cannot do this every day! 

“Nine,” I’m starting to feel hopeful once again; we’re almost done.

“Ah!” That last blow was incredibly hard and aimed again at my sit spot. The tingling spreads through my groin along the burning sensation. I collapse onto the floor below me, whispering, “Ten.”

Tears have blurred my vision, my chest is wracked with sobs, and once more I feel a gentle caress on my ass. Instead of disgusting me, it comforts me, just a little. I don’t reject it this time. I have a slightly heavy feeling in my groin, along with a burning in my ass. It's confusing.

“See how pain makes your body more pliable, more willing?” The groomer seems pleased. “But we aren’t finished yet.”

Still not yet? I can’t believe it. What else can he do to me? I look up briefly, finding him standing in front of me.

“Yes, _this_ is the look—a wild, lost look for my black kitten— _that’s_ what I’d like to see.” Then he wanders away from my view again—and with horror, I realize only one more part of my body is restrained. He can’t mean to—

“Count for me, little one.” That honeyed voice sounds almost gentle, like the touch of his hand on my ass earlier. But the cane that strikes my tail is not at _all_ gentle. I receive an almost electrifying shock to my tail, one that shoots into the tip and into my spine. It hurts so much I almost don't hear the sound it makes.

“Uh—gods—no— _please_ ,” the words are pushed out of my mouth, but I add the word quickly, “One.”

“Oh, yes,” the groomer replies, an almost ecstatic tone in his voice. The cane comes down again, and I scream in pain.

“Two,” I manage to whisper—my voice is hoarse, covered in tears. My body relaxes down to the ground.

“This is more like it. I can’t _believe_ it’s taken you this long.” Another blow—I scream, but I keep my body relaxed and flat.

“Three.”

“Most new recruits are finished after their feet alone. But you—” he whips my tail again, gleefully.

“Four!” I hiss, the pain electrifies the entire length of my spine now.

“You… you’ve managed to hold out for so long. You are not at all what you appear. I’m quite impressed. I hope this will be enough to keep you in line.” And another blow sends shocking pain up into my back and shoulders.

“Ah! Five!” I don’t move my body at all, and there is no escape. I realize I am have completely lowered my body to the ground, relaxing it, submitting to the pain, to the groomer’s touch, to his abuse. 

“Yes, just like that. I will bring you back here anytime, give you as much as you need until you realize there is no escape.”  
  
Another electrifying blow rushes through my body—and I feel the green snake roiling inside me, responding to the sound of his voice. He is _enjoying_ this. But I do not feel angry anymore. My anger is gone, dissipated into smoke—into the sweat of merely trying to survive.

“Six,” I almost forgot to count. 

“If you do not behave in the lobby, if you do not submit to the will of the clients, if you growl or snap at them, I will have you removed. We will come back here as many times as it takes.”

Another blow and a small defeated grunt from my mouth. “Seven.”

“Worse, you may be punished for the benefit of the client you offend. That will be worse for you. The owner will show you no mercy. I do this for my _own_ enjoyment. To him, you are nothing more than merchandise. He holds nothing back in his punishments, for you belong to him. He paid for you outright and intends to get his money out of you, regardless of the cost.”

The cane whips my tail once again.

“Eight,” I whisper, in complete submission now, my tears falling softly.

“That’s a wonderful sound. This is how I _expect_ you to be for me—from now until you leave this place. If you move from this submissive posture, expect to be softened until you return to this position.”  
  
Again—another blow. “Nine,” I whisper, desperate now, though hopeless, realizing I can do nothing.

“You’re _beautiful_ like this. Still wild, but submissive.” His voice sounds strangely like encouragement in my ears—almost soothing the pain he is inflicting.

The last blow is applied close to the base of my tail, and it burns like fire. I scream, catch my breath and whisper, “Ten,” with relief. And then I burst into fresh, silent tears.

I don’t move when I feel him stroking my bottom ever so gently. It feels tender to me.

“Now, until you are trusted, we will keep you restrained. You are _not_ to touch yourself or pleasure yourself in any way. Save that for the clients or for when a reward is due to you. You are no longer your own creature. You belong to this house now.”  
  
Pleasure myself? What does he mean?

“To make this easier for you, I will keep your restrained. You will receive a new name from us. We will call you Mikage, which means ‘deep shadow,’ in honor of your black markings and unusual jet black fur. I expect you to answer to that name from now one. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” I reply quietly.

“Rest now, until someone comes for you.” He releases my tail from its bindings, however, which I realize is a kindness. It droops rather sadly, painfully, from its punishment, shaking and quivering. I wish I could lick it. “Ah, it’s no more crooked than its hooked end. And just a moment.”

I wait patiently, though what else can I do? I can’t go anywhere. The door is behind me, and I can’t see if he is leaving.

I feel him running a brush through the fur on my ears and through my hair. With some degree of horror, I realize he may try to brush the fur on my tail as well, and he does—and it burns and stings where the cane has hit me.

“Keep quiet,” he commands. I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to keep my sobs quiet as much as possible.

He applies some sort of cream to my palms, which stings and burns. It doesn’t feel like a healing ointment. In fact, when I look at my hands, it looks like the red lines on my palms stand out even more against my pale skin than they did before. He applies the cream to my feet as well, and I twitch my toes.

I flinch when I feel him touch my ass with his slimy hands, and the cream stings much, much worse there than it did on my calloused hands and feet. The skin there was previously untouched and tender. I cry out, and I feel him slap my ass hard, making me yelp. 

“I _told_ you to keep quiet. Are you having a hard time submitting yourself to my request? Do you require further reminding of your submissive position?”  
  
“N-no, sir,” I stammer. I bring my swollen tail up to my mouth, popping just the tip into my mouth to silence myself. 

“Good boy,” he says, and he continues to apply the cream. It burns just as much—and I can feel every single line standing out from the rest of my ass—I’m sure each is bright red—and it is humiliating. I bite down on my tail until the burning dies down, biting down on my tail, making _it_ take the brunt of the pain.

“Someone will return shortly to retrieve you, Mikage. I will check if your set-up is complete in the foyer. You performed admirably today. Do not disappoint me this evening.”

I hear the door close behind me with relief, and I lower my ears and my body starts to relax. I’m exhausted. As uncomfortable as this humiliating position is, I’m so sore and I can’t fight how tired I am. I shut my eyes and drift off to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Konoe gets a new name, Mikage, and experiences his first night on display as new merchandise in the lobby. It goes pretty well at first, much to his surprise. At least, until he meets a familiar and unexpected guest--one from his nightmares.
> 
> There's a lot of non-con groping, threats of punishment, intimidation, and fear in this chapter, plus a very public punishment in this chapter--non-con paddling.

Violently, I’m shaken awake by someone grabbing my collar. I didn’t even hear the door. It’s the groomer again. I don’t even know his name and now, I’m afraid to ask. I can’t speak without being asked a question.

“Mikage,” he says. “You look beautiful.” He runs a brush through my hair and fur, then applies the burning ointment to my hands, feet, and ass. It stings, but not enough for me to cry this time. I keep very quiet and still, trying to stay submissive and obedient. “Ah, much better. And wait till you see the set-up we have for you downstairs. You are going to get your night with Sayuri after your debut. You’ll be able to do whatever you like with her if you please your first client, I promise you—but you have to _behave_ while you are in the lobby.”

He lifts my chin and looks me in the eye.

“Clients may wish to touch you. You must comply. They will want to touch your markings, your fur—including your tail—they will want to see if your fur is dyed black or the real thing. You will let them. They may also wish to touch your body. But they will not be able to violate you publicly. We are not that kind of establishment. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” I mumble. I’m not used to all this stimulation.

“If you are asked a question, you will answer in such a way that pleases the client. We do not care about the truth here. Your name is Mikage. You are not from Kira. You have always had this fur and these markings. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” I agree, sadly. I feel less and less like myself, and my ears are starting to ring in fear.

“Keep your mind on the pleasures awaiting you. That should keep you focused on happier things. Or, remember what happened today and that I will repeat this process until you comply if that is what motivates you.”

He yanks the chain on my neck and pulls me to stand—he must have released my restraints while I was still sleeping—and I have to quicken my steps to follow him out of the room. I’d nearly forgotten the injury to my feet: each step burns my punished soles, and I have to walk gingerly. However, no matter how careful I am, each time I place my foot on the ground, it stings. Still, the groomer makes no allowances for me.

I keep my face lowered as I hobble down the hall. I don’t hear a word spoken aloud this time, but I smell a lot of new smells—powder, perfume, all sorts of strange scents—and I hear rustling fabric—so those females must be here. But I do not look up. They do not speak very loud, but I hear soft whispering—sympathetic whispering. Some sounds tenderly nostalgic—reminding me of my mother—and one voice makes me turn my face up suddenly.

It’s an orange cat with a short bobbed haircut, wearing a red dress. She has a scar on the side of her face. She gives me a warm smile, her blue eyes sparkling gently.

“Do your best!” I see her mouth the words.

Is she cheering me on? I’m confused. I look at the other faces around me, and they all have softened sad faces. It brings tears to my eyes. Do they feel _sorry_ for me? Gods—did they—did they _hear_ my screams? Ah—shit. They _heard_ me being punished! My face flushes and my ears get hot. They are black now, but if they were their original color, they'd certainly be blushing.

“Ryo!” I hear a clear voice call out, and the groomer looks up suddenly. “He can’t keep up with you. It’s obvious you beat the soles of his feet, and he is doing his best. You applied that ointment, too, didn’t you? Slow down, and give him a chance! Don’t be so mean to him on his first day. You don’t want him to hate us.”

“Shut up, Mana, and get to work,” the groomer mumbles back, but he slows his pace just a little. I am secretly thankful for her words. I feel a soft touch to one of my arms—a gentle squeeze—it's the orange tabby with blue eyes—it’s she who spoke up on my behalf. “Don’t touch!”

“Whatever,” she says carelessly. “You’re all bark and no bite. You do your best, little one. You are a _beautiful_ creature. We are all rooting for you.” She smiles at me, and that fierce scar makes her look even stronger than she sounds.

“Ladies, get to work!” Ryo yells roughly. They coo at him humorously, and I’m rather stunned by their reaction to him when they brush his shoulder and touch him gently. Why is he so rough with me?

He yanks me along, and I receive several gentle touches to my body—sending little shivers down my spine—one girl even gently touches the marks on my butt, murmuring, “Gods, you could have gone a little easier, couldn’t you? Our clients are going to expect too much now. I don’t _do_ this kind of thing.”

“Well, that’s why _he’s_ here, isn’t it?” Ryo says. We finally reach the end of the hall. My experience of those girls is totally different now. They are certainly unusual, but they are much more normal and real than I expected, and much kinder. And that one—Mana—she reminds me of Mom.

When we reach the lobby, I’m a little surprised to see a small metal cage, which is suspended from the ceiling and attached to the wall. My heart pounds audibly in my ears. Is that for me?

“You will be safe in here. Remember what I said about growling and hissing, although—perhaps we may permit it at some point. It might increase your asking price at auction. However, _not_ in the lobby.”

There is a sign in front of the cage which reads, “Mikage” and some other lettering I can’t read. He opens the door but does not remove my collar. I am still not provided with any clothing, which I find shameful. When I’m pushed into the cage, I cannot stand up to my full height without bumping my head on the top bars—but they _are_ open. And I can crouch. I am expected to sit in the cage. The bottom of the cage is also open as well, and my tail and legs dangle out through the bottom of the bars, if I want to wiggle my legs through them to stretch out.

It’s terribly uncomfortable, so I can’t sit still, and I end up moving around, pacing to get comfortable, and I can’t really find a way to cover myself properly. I probably look just like the wild animal I’m being marketed as.

I would really like to know what the sign says, but it’s turned in the opposite direction, and I couldn’t read it, and I cannot ask. Why were those girls allowed to talk so freely, and I am not allowed to ask a question?

Once I am settled in, the owner appears from a side door, and he comes to inspect me. He can easily grasp my ears through the bars, as well as any part of my body—my tail, my ass, and my legs, which are currently hanging through the bottom of the cage. I behave myself without making a single sound, and I even try not to pull my sore tail away, or flinch when he brushes the marks from the cane.

“You were severely punished, it seems, and it suits you very well, Mikage. I think we will get what we are looking for from your debut. You look quite fetching. I find you quite attractive, myself, as does Ryo. And the girls have expressed interest in you as well, already complaining that his treatment of you was too rough. Do you understand our house rules?”

“Yes, sir.”

The owner nods to the side of the podium, where I see a wooden paddle. Shit—a _paddle_? What the fuck? My eyes go wide.

“In case you need reminding during the evening, as our new pets often forget their place their first few days here—it’s easy to become distracted—I have a little helper. Keep your eye on that in case you are tempted to hiss or growl. But you look like a good boy to me.” He gives me a sleazy smile that makes my skin crawl.

He strokes my sore ass through the bars, and I feel revulsion boiling up in my throat. His touch feels disgusting to me.

Just then, there is a knock at the door.

“Here’s your first chance to show off your charms.”

I’m curious, but I try to keep my face lowered to the ground. The door is right there—whoever comes in will see me right away. Shit. I shift around to cover myself.

The owner approaches the door and opens a small slit. “From whence?”

“Hisomiya.”  
  
He opens the door and in walks a tall—I mean _huge_ —brawny cat, unlike any cat I’ve ever seen. He has a tan complexion, short blond hair with matching ears, and plain brown eyes. He is dressed in a green jacket with a hood—and he looks like a bounty hunter to me, as his face has a scar across the nose. But mostly—based on the size of him—could he be one of these larger breeds from Setsura?

“Welcome back to our establishment. I remember you from your last visit. What is your heart’s desire this evening?” The owner’s voice flows like a sticky substance—he is aiming for honey and failing—but the guest's eyes are glued instantly to my cage in the corner.

“What’s this? A new attraction?”

“Ah—this is the newest addition to our collection. We will be auctioning _him_ off on the last day of Antou.”

“ _Him_? You actually have a _boy_?” My heart thumps loudly in my ears, in time to the sound of his bootsteps, which wander over to my cage. I see the boots stop directly in front of the sign. “Mikage? Deep shadow? What the fuck is this? A cursed virgin boy? Huh.”

I feel a hand reaching out to grab my tail.

“Oh my gods, this is real black fur—and so lush and full!”

“Oh yes, indeed. And you’ll notice, it’s hooked at the end. We can keep him here without being afraid of his cursed nature because of that special lucky hooked tail.”

I feel him brushing through the fur at the tip of my tail, and a shiver runs through my spine. I shiver in spite of myself, just from being handled.

“Gods, you can feel in this hooked part? Shit.” He bends down to take a closer look at me. “Ah—the markings on your arms, too—and you have a real pretty face, too.” Reaching into the cage, he feels my sides, waist, and hips. I inhale sharply in surprise, but I do not move. "Wow, and a lovely shape to him, even if he's a little on the thin side. He's so young and has such perfect skin." Looking back at the owner, he says, “Are you sure he’s not available tonight?”

“He isn’t, but feel free to put a bid on him if you’re interested. We appreciate your interest. We will be holding our auction on the last day of the festival. We’d love to see you there.”

The yellow cat turns back to me. “I’m interested. He definitely captures my attention. You don’t have many boys here. Wouldn’t you _enjoy_ spending your first night with me? I’m sure I could show you a great time.”

He lifts my chin up to his face, pulling it close to the bars. I’m terrified he might kiss me. This monster scares me, and the way he’s talking about me pisses me the fuck off! But I meet his eyes briefly before dropping them submissively, and I answer obediently, “Yes, sir.”

“Oh, now _that_ was a dishonest answer if I ever heard one. You’re shaking like a leaf on a tree!” He laughs heartily, squeezing my thigh.

“Now, sir, for your entertainment this evening, who are you interested in?”  
  
“Mana, I want Mana.”

“Of course. Hers is the first room on the right upstairs.”

I’m pleased to watch that guest disappear from my sight and be rid of him. That was really unpleasant. I ruffle up my fur and try to lick my tail, along with everywhere he touched. Actually, I realize I can finally groom the painful parts of my tail now—and it seems I’m allowed to do so when I’m in the cage.

The owner looks at me and says, “That was good. You did well. I’m pleased. Keep up the performance and you should do just fine.”

I try to keep my exasperation to myself, especially as the next guests of the evening arrive. Several of them are terribly handsy—some trying to reach inside the cage and grab my ass and other more private parts of me—asking if I am really a boy or not.

“Come on, now, don’t be shy,” one of the guests teases. “Move your hands out of the way and let me see.”

I do not comply with his request, and the owner seems to be relatively neutral about my response.

“He really doesn’t have much experience, does he? And he’s this shy? He’d probably be really fun—think of what we could do to him. Are you accepting bids from multiple parties?” The guest asks.

“Hmm,” the owner considers. “For his first time, I’d prefer he not be traumatized. However, after that, he will be servicing clients, and then, we’d consider your business. I would consider that if you like. That will most likely be the day after Antou—or possibly two or three days, depending on how his first time goes. He may require some recovery time, of course.”

“Recovery time?” One of the guests is intrigued. “I think I’d like to bid.”

“We welcome you. For your entertainment this evening, would you like to see Sayuri, like you did last time? I believe she is expecting you. By the way, she has mentioned some interest in this little boy as well.”  
  
“Did she? Well, I’ll have to discuss the possibilities. Thank you.”

I’m relieved when the group clears out.

“It was fine not to show yourself off that time. It demonstrated your shyness, your purity, and your virginity. However, in future, please be mindful of the guests’ wishes. This time it seemed to work in your favor. In the future, it may not, and I will punish you if it disappoints a guest and he decides not to bid because of your refusal.”

He nods toward the paddle. I shudder.

There is no natural light in this place, so I have no way to tell how long this night is going to go on, and I continue grooming my sore tail and palms, but I cannot reach my feet. And my grooming isn’t really helping. The guests continue to arrive, much to the owner’s delight. However, I get a strange feeling when the next lone guest strides into the lobby.

He doesn’t speak to the owner when asked what his pleasure is for the evening. He simply walks right up to my cage and towers over me.

There is a strangely familiar feeling about him. I stare down at his boots, which are black, but his pants—well, they are odd. His pants look like gray fur. In fact, I can’t help myself. His outfit is so unusual that my eyes travel up along his long, rather shapely legs. He is wearing gray fur chaps, attached to black patent leather pants with two long golden belts to each leg, and a third wide belt with an oversized silver buckle at the waist. But stranger still—his tail—it’s black, wiry and completely hairless—like a thin snake.

A _snake_.

I gulp, and my heart starts to race uncomfortably.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding. How strangely appropriate… for me. And all wrapped up nice and tidy in a cage. You look so perfectly delicious in there.”

That voice—I’ve heard it before. If I hadn’t seen that wiry tail, I wouldn’t have made the connection, but it’s a voice from my dream—the second dream with the yellow snake, as impossible as it seems. I’m _sure_ of it. My anxiety takes off in an instant, and my fur fluffs up dramatically.

I dare to lift my eyes a little higher, and I’m met with a tanned, sculpted, navel—grotesquely and vulgarly tattooed, pointing downward toward his groin. The tattoo seems to scream, “Look at my dick!” I look away, shocked and disgusted.

I hear a chuckle. “Like what you see?”

“No, sir,” I say quietly, rebelliously.

More fur and feathers flow around his body—his chest is bare and ripped—he is wearing an open coat to show it off—trimmed in animal fur at the collar, snakeskin at the shoulder, and fringe at the wrists. He finishes the look with black gloves. He has a rather handsome face, fangs showing through a leering mouth, but oddly off-putting eyes—one gray and one green, and a shock of short, white hair. And where his ears should be, he has black curved _horns_ —like those of a bull. What the hell is he? Is he a _devil_?

“You _remember_ me, don’t you?” I feel a hand brushing under my chin slightly. “I’ll give you something to you to _help_ you remember, if you like, Chibineko.”  
  
His other hand sneaks back my tail, which is agitated and waving around. “I don’t remember your fur being this color. Although it looks _really_ sexy on you. As do these markings. As does the nudity.”

As soon as his gloved hand grips the base of my tail, I feel an electric shock zap me and course through my body—and I let out a shocked, pained sound and a groan, when luscious waves of pleasure rip through my body, causing me to drool. I feel something roiling around in my stomach rather sickeningly.

I realize with horror that my nightmare may _not_ have been a nightmare. I really _did_ swallow a snake—and I think I might be sick.

“Sir,” the owner says. “He is not yet available for use this evening. We will be auctioning him off at the end of Antou.”

“Auctioning? What’s this? I can’t spend a little time with him now? Isn’t this a brothel?”

“It is, but he is our newest addition, and we are auctioning off his virginity in several days. Please, you seem like a great new customer to have at our establishment,” he says while checking out the stranger’s expensive clothing. “Join us for the auction.”

“How do I know I will be getting what I paid for? How do I know he _is_ what you _say_ he is?”

“You are welcome to examine him yourself right here.”

“Ho?” The stranger turns toward me, and I cower, fluffing up all my fur. I do _not_ want him to touch me again. I’m afraid of that… thing. I know he is _not_ a cat. How can the owner not see the danger? He _isn’t_ a cat! I think he is a _devil_! Am I supposed to serve devils, too?

“Mikage!” The owner addresses me suddenly. “Your _manners_!” He is speaking to me rather sternly, and I realize it’s because I am growling.

Also, my entire body is shaking with fear.

“Sir,” I whisper desperately. “This person—he is _not_ a cat!”

“Kind sir, may we have the pleasure of your name?” The owner asks politely, ignoring my protests.

“I’m Verg,” he says proudly. And then he reaches into my cage and grabs me by the shoulder, sending another shock through my body. I can’t help the moan that comes out of my mouth—it sounds lewd and disgusting.

“Mikage!” The owner is beside himself. “What did I just tell you about your manners? Let the client examine you properly!”

“I tend to have this effect on the younger ones,” Verg explains, while I’m writhing in the cage, trying to wrench out of his hands, my fluffy tail whipping away from him.

“Get your hands _off_ of me! Don’t _touch_ me! I don’t _like_ that—don’t shock me again!” I yell.

“That is quite enough,” the owner approaches my cage directly, wooden paddle in hand. “I must apologize for his behavior. As you can see, he will need some training. This is his first night on the floor.”  
  
“Ah, you see, training is my specialty,” Verg states. “I enjoy it very much.”  
  
“Would you like the pleasure?” To my utter shock, the owner offers the paddle to Verg.

“Oh, more than you could possibly know,” Verg almost purrs.

“He’s _not_ a cat!” I continue to yell, my fear rising. “That thing is a _demon_! He turned into a _snake_ , and he made me swallow him, and he is _shocking_ me, and it makes me feel weird!” I’m shouting, I realize I’m causing a scene, and I sound crazy.

“Mikage, didn’t Ryo explain to you what happens when you misbehave in front of our clients?” The owner is speaking calmly, but he is obviously flustered.

Verg is smiling delightedly. “Are we doing this right here?” His eyebrows are raised.

There’s a knock at the door, and the owner unlocks my cage before answering the door. “Be my guest. Don’t go easy on him. From whence?”

“Hisomiya.”

It’s the last word that registers in my mind before my chain is yanked cruelly from my cage, but I hang on tightly to the bars in the cage.

“Ah, well, we can do it like this, too, Chibineko,” Verg purrs, pulling just my legs and lower body from the cage, leaving my upper body inside. I realize this is putting me at a severe disadvantage much too late, and I try to scrabble back up into the cage, again I'm a little too late. He gives my tail a firm yank and then shocks me another time.

My body loses power with this shock—it melts against the floor of the cage—and I have to press my entire torso to the cage to absorb the feeling and catch my breath—my ass is basically in the air, presented to him perfectly—and I feel the wooden paddle being pressed up against it.

“I never thought I would get to do _this_ to you publicly on my very first visit, Chibi,” Verg gives my tail another little pull, straightening my body up before he gives me a swat with the paddle.

My feet barely touch the floor—only my tiptoes touch and my legs flinch from that first blow. But because he has been shocking me—and where he hit me—right at my sore, caned sit spot—a strange sensation flows through my body. It hurts, but there’s another sensation, too. I feel myself getting slightly hard, and it’s terribly confusing.

Then, he swats me a second time—in the same place—and I cry out—I think it’s in pain—but I’m not exactly sure. He pulls my tail up slightly, but not too hard—and swats me again right away—and this time, I’m pretty sure what I’m feeling _isn’t_ pain.

What is this? Is this _arousal_?

I am still crying out—but what I’m feeling isn’t exactly pain, nor is it pleasure so much—but I can feel myself getting harder and harder. Anyone watching would be able to see my arousal under the bars of the cage. Gods—this is so humiliating—and it’s a devil doing this to me!

Then, the paddle comes down swiftly against my thighs—and that burns and stings—especially right on top of the caning I’d received earlier—and I let out a scream, and I’m sure tears are ready to fall.

“Ah—Chibi—what a nice voice you have—sorry about that—but this _is_ a punishment, after all,” Verg’s purring voice murmurs softly.

Then another swat to my sit spot changes the sensation, making that pain shiver into something closer to pleasure, confusing me again. Wait—do I  _enjoy_ pain?

I hear a door open, and I realize Ryo is watching—he is looking at this spectacle, unable to look away. Plus whoever has entered from the front door is also watching, and I heard at least two pairs of footsteps coming downstairs—and I feel so terribly humiliated right now—and then I get another swat right on my sit spot—this one harder than before—but it has the same effect as before, only more intense.

Is it from the shocks? I’m not screaming anymore—I’m grunting and gasping instead—making all this obscene noise.

And then another two swats—one to my cheeks, one to my thighs—both sting mightily, drawing tears from my eyes and sobs from my lungs, and I want to reach back and protect my ass—and then I receive another blow to my sit spot.

That one actually feels damn  _good_. It burns and stings—and it also feels _good_. I feel my back arching up, my ass is actually pressing out and up as if demanding more. And the sound that came out of my mouth was not one of a pain, but a gasp of indulgence. What is _wrong_ with me?  
  
I lower my face to my hands, which are resting on the bars of the cage. I’m shaking with _desire_. I don’t know what is happening to me, but I feel something dripping from my dick, which is hard and straining painfully through the bars.

Three more hard blows—thighs, cheeks, thighs—and a small pause—and I’m sobbing loudly now, and I’m trying hard not to reach back and rub myself—just as I let go of the bars to move my hands back to rub the pain in my ass and thighs, I receive another blow to my sit spot—equally as hard, but this one shoots amazing pleasure through my body, shimmering across my skin. The sobs in my throat dissolve into a purr, and my knees start to shake and nearly buckle.

“You’re almost there, aren’t you?” Verg purrs. "You're _quite_ a surprise."

Then—a volley assaults me—a rhythm that I can’t keep up with—seemingly random at first—and then I realize—he is spanking my sit spot, then my thighs, then my sit spot, then my cheeks, then my sit spot, alternating pain with this painful pleasure, and the pleasure builds and builds, combining with the pain, the pain heightening the pleasure, and I can’t breathe—and my stomach pulls painfully, and I hear myself gasping and sighing—I suddenly lose myself—my vision goes white—and I think—I think—

I think—gods—am I about to wet myself? In front of everyone? What has he done to me?

A huge surge of pleasure rushes through my body and my dick releases hot sticky fluid through the bars, shooting onto my stomach and dripping onto the floor. My body jerks and shudders on its own—and wave after wave of pure pleasure—not at _all_ related to pain—race through my body. It feels so good!

I realize the room is eerily quiet, and my eyes are closed, and I’m strangely exhausted.

What even was that? Some kind of spell?  
  
I feel that demon is caressing my ass with his hand. “Was that your very first time? You really _are_ an innocent, but that was damn beautiful. Owner, I’ll definitely be here at the auction. I found out what I needed to know—you have a _gem_ on your hands—it isn’t everyone who can come from a paddling.”

When I open my eyes, I realize the lobby is filled with people—gods—did I just do that in front of all these people? There are hands all over my body—all over my ass, all over my tail, even touching my dick and that stuff that came out of me—and _so_ many voices. Too much stimulation!

“Do you think this stuff is cursed? Maybe it’s magic!”

“I’ve never seen anyone actually come from a paddling—is he really into pain or just really sensitive?”

“Did you think there was something weird about the cat who was here just now? The one punishing him?”

“When is the auction?”

“Where is this little one from?”

“Do you accept deferred payment?”

“When will he be available for regular servicing?”

“What sorts of services will he be providing?”

So many voices.

“Look how popular you are, Chibineko. Aren’t you glad I came to pay you a visit? Now, I’ll win your auction and take your next first time, too. You’re quite an addicting little vixen—I think I’ve quite fallen for you.” After leaning down to kiss my mouth, my cheeks, my nose, both ears, and shockingly, both my sore ass cheeks, Verg takes his leave.

That demon scares the living shit out of me. What the hell is he? Is he really a devil? What does he even want? My body trembles in fear just thinking of it—but that pleasure—gods—that was something else.

The rest of the night is fairly lackluster after that. I don't really care much about anything except wanting to sleep and not being able to. I am barely able to keep my eyes open. I end up falling asleep in my cage, I think.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Konoe/Mikage meets two more interesting guests this evening.
> 
> Trigger warning: There are a severe beating and a nasty punishment in this chapter. If you’re squeamish about torture, maybe skip this chapter, and read the summary at the end.

I wake in the small room, kneeling on the floor with my arms in front of me, and my legs curled up beneath me, ankles and wrists restrained. I have no idea how long I’ve slept, and my body is aching furiously. I want to stretch, I want to groom—but something woke me just now—a strange sound—startling from my slumber. But I can’t see what it is, and I’m still so drowsy from lack of sleep.

I hear the groomer’s voice—Ryo—speaking softly, directly into my ear. 

“Are you ready for your preparations for the evening’s activities? For the most part, you pleased the owner with your performance last night—despite your appalling behavior with Mr. Verg. If you hadn’t shown such poor manners, I might be able to skip some of this evening’s routine.”

“Routine?” I ask quietly—but inwardly, I cringe. I already know, and my pulse starts to race, tears filling my eyes.

“I want to get this over with quickly, so don’t bother counting,” his smooth voice says, matter-of-factly.

I feel the cane come down on my unprotected feet—and I wince—and a small grunt comes out of my mouth.

“I don’t understand your performance for Verg, quite frankly.” 

The cane comes down on my ass next—hard and right on my sit spot—and I cry out since I was expecting another blow to my feet. My tail fluffs out fully—and it does _not_ feel good at all. 

“What _was_ that? I’ve never seen anything like that in all my years in this business.”

Next, the cane comes down on my tail. Tears leak from my eyes and I yelp, but I try to keep my voice down.

“It’s not like you could fake such a thing, either.” 

Smack—against my feet.

“I saw the results myself.”

Slap—on my ass, jolting my body.

“Was that really your first experience?”

Smack—against my tail.

“Answer me.”

Smack—another blow to the soles of my feet—and I try to answer while gritting my teeth. “Yes!”

“I see.”

Smack—Smack—Smack.

The punishment continues, blows raining down on the back half of my body, and I try to submit to it like I did yesterday, keeping my body low to the ground, trying not to fight it. It seems to please him well enough, but it doesn’t lessen the blows or their impact.

He leaves my ass, tail, and feet incredibly raw, but he skips my palms today. After running a brush through my fur and applying cream to my injured body parts, he leads me back to the lobby and places me in the cage. I didn’t notice any females on my way out this time—I don’t know if they were working or if I was too distracted just trying to walk—my feet are really sore. 

As soon as the door to my cage closes, the first customers arrive, and the same things happen as yesterday. I immediately begin to groom and stretch out my body as best as I can, and I try to ignore the poking and prodding, foreign hands feeling up my body and running fingers through my fur and my hair. I get chills when my tail is grabbed, but I do well and manage not offend anyone. 

However. 

Within a few hours, another lone guest arrives. This one has a familiar strange aura when he enters—and I notice his powerful presence as soon as he enters the lobby. He has long, bright red hair and black horns, curving up from his head—larger than Verg’s, and I wonder if this means he is older. His piercing eyes are a clear blue—and his presence radiates heat, power, and a certain odd dignity. 

He is dressed in very nice garb, if slightly out of place—it looks like a costume—in fact, the owner assumes he is dressed for the festival. He is wearing red and black from head to toe—a black jacket with jeweled closures at the chest, and an expensive-looking ruby necklace underneath—and his nicely toned tan skin is tastefully exposed underneath. He is armed with a fancy curved blade, and he is wearing black gloves.

He has fleshy protrusions on the side of his head—maybe those are his ears—I try to remember if I saw the other devil’s ears—and his fangs peek out from over his lips. He looks pleased to see me, a calm expression on his face. That wiry tail flicks impatiently.

“Verg told me I’d be able to find you here.”

When I hear his voice, my stomach does a little flip, and I can feel something inside my guts roil around. I momentarily forget the ache in the soles of my feet, my tail, and my ass. Instead, I feel fear. I am remembering the nightmares about the snakes—this voice accompanied the red snake.

That dream—when I try to remember more about it, my mind goes blank, but my stomach—I find I’m leaning forward slightly. 

“What are you doing here?” I whisper quietly, trying not to let the owner hear me.

“Welcome, kind sir! What a wonderful costume for our festival! Any friend of Verg’s is welcome in our humble establishment. I’m pleased he would recommend us. How may we serve you?”

That is _no costume_! How does he not see that this is a devil standing before him?! It’s making my skin crawl.

“I’m here to visit your newest addition,” the red-haired man says. “My name is Razel.”

“The auction will be taking place at the end of the festival, and we’d love your participation,” the owner assures him, obviously checking out the jewels around his neck, his waist, and the handle of his weapon. 

“Do you mind if I take a closer look at the merchandise?” Razel hasn’t lifted his gaze from me, the calm smile hasn’t changed from when he entered.

“Please do.” The owner returns to his place at the desk, sending me a pointed glare, nodding toward the paddle.

I shudder when this devil comes closer. He is _definitely_ a demon. I can tell by looking at him—and how the _hell_ is the owner okay with this? Are the four snakes in my dreams really devils? Are they _all_ going to visit me here? 

Remembering what Verg did to me last night, I am suddenly terribly nervous. I was punished severely during Verg’s visit. What is _this_ devilgoing to do to me? I shrink back in the cage, and the owner looks my way instantly, also apparently remembering yesterday’s events, so I try to make my body stop shrinking from the terrifying presence in front of me and try to look submissive.

But I can’t— _I can’t do this._  

I can’t be expected to _willingly_ submit myself into the hands of a devil!

That is crazy. No one in their right mind would do this! I’m angry I’m even in this position. 

I meet the devil’s clear blue eyes directly, and his smile widens. His fangs are quite lovely, and he has a pleasant face.

“What do you want with me?” I ask boldly, though my tail is quivering between my legs.

“Ho?” Razel says, reaching out his hand to touch my chin. His hand is hot. His touch nearly singes my skin, and I flinch. “That is not a very polite greeting from you.” 

“Don’t touch me!” I growl lowly. 

“Mikage!” The owner throws a dark look in my direction. “You will receive one warning tonight, and this is it. I will not tolerate growling at clients.” 

I stop the growl immediately, and it sticks uncomfortably in my throat.

“Look at you. So obedient. And this black fur—it suits you. As well as your new look. Very becoming. How are you finding your new position, Konoe?” The red demon asks quietly, speaking in a low voice so the manager can’t hear, towering over me.

He knows my name? Shivers of fear crawl up my spine when I hear him say my real name, but I feel anger when his hot hands continue to stroke my ears. He won’t take his hands off me. 

“How does it feel that your plight has brought you here, to this place?” The low voice whispers calmly, coaxingly. I feel something building in my chest—getting ready to explode. I still do not growl, for fear of offending the owner.

“Here you on, all your… charms, shall we say, on display for the world to see, and you are helpless to do anything about it,” Razel continues. He strokes my tail ever so gently, and it quivers beneath his fingers. It’s anger. I am angry. The rest of my body starts to shiver and shake with rage. An uncontrollable rage fills my body as he is touching me. I am angry to be here!

“I don’t mind being able to visit you here—it’s a pleasure to be able to see you like this—on _display_ like this—at your very best after all—all wrapped up in a cage for me to examine at my leisure. I’ll be back in a few days to bid on your auction as well.” His gentle voice continues, and my anger only increases. “Wouldn’t you enjoy spending your time with me? Your first time?”

I look up at him, the growl ready to spill out when he grabs my leg.

He strokes the bottom of my feet, and I wince, trying to pull away. “Oh—look at this. Even if you were given a chance to escape, you could _never_ do it on your own.”

He looks at my hands and sees the red stripes on my palms, brushing against them carefully. “Did they cane your palms as well? Not today, it seems. Probably tomorrow, I’d guess.” 

Grasping my tail at the base suddenly, he runs his hand along the entire length. “Your fur is lush and soft, but by your expression when I stroke you, it looks like your tail has been beaten, too, as though you were an errant child. What have you done to _deserve_ such harsh treatment, little one?”

When he pulls up sharply on my tail, he exposes more of my ass, which he strokes tenderly—and his hand is still strangely warm—not uncomfortably so, however, like I was expecting. “You have been beaten—paddled when Verg was here, as well as the caning they do for ‘training’—and you will be beaten _again_ tomorrow. And the day after. And most likely, the day after that. Your freedom has been taken from you. What are you now? Hmm? What do you have left of yourself? Who are you now? Who will you call on to help you get out of this situation, hmm?” 

I am trembling—my entire body is trembling—and I feel—to my horror—a growl rattling in my throat, escaping despite my efforts to repress it. I am unable to stop it.

“That’s it,” Razel strokes my ears gently. “Your power comes from anger, doesn’t it? I see it glowing in your lovely eyes.”

The owner looks at me, threateningly, but I have my eyes on Razel, and they are filled with anger and hatred. Did he put me in this position? 

“Did you curse me?” I growl angrily. 

“Mikage!” The owner approaches, the paddle in hand. “I already warned you about the growling. Please, you must forgive his manners. We don’t keep many boys in our establishment for this very reason. I’m sure your colleague must have warned you.” 

“Oh, I heard, and that’s why I’m here.”

“Are you interested in punishing him yourself?”

“That isn’t necessary,” Razel replies, much to my surprise. “I’ll just watch.”

To my shock, the owner drags me out of the cage this time, and he is surprisingly strong. In fact, for as prissy as he looks, I cannot believe how strong he is.

“ _What_ did you just have the nerve say to me?” The owner hisses, grabbing me by the collar and forcing me to look up at him. 

“Ah—what?” I’m shocked. Did I _say_ something? Ah—shit! Did I say the prissy comment out loud?! _Fuck_! That was really, really stupid! I’ve never seen the owner lose his cool.

I hear Razel chuckling. “It looks like your anger may have gotten the better of you today, little one.”

My body is bent over the entrance of the cage, and the paddle comes down on my ass in rapid, successive blows, without stopping—unlike what Verg did to me yesterday—and it _hurts_! A burning sensation starts to creep up into my spine from the force of the blows, and I struggle to keep my feet on the floor. Not to mention it’s right in front of the red demon, who is watching contently. I’m embarrassed, in severe pain, and I’m _pissed_. 

I try to submit to the punishment—like I did earlier—but I can’t do it. I cannot get my body to relax and submit. I’m too angry, and my body continues to resist and fight. The owner notices and continues paddling me, harder and harder, aiming for my thighs and my ass till I see sparks of light on the backs of my eyes. 

I am screaming in pain, and tears are leaking from my eyes, but I am not crying. I am _not_ going to submit to this.  He will have to kill me first!

However, when there’s a knock at the door, I realize, I might be saved. I think he is going to have to stop beating me to answer the door.

The owner gives me three more hard smacks on the thighs with the paddle, and then walks away from me, leaving me hanging out of the cage, shivering in pain. My tail is fluffed out fully and finally comes to rest over my ass, and I am exhausted, but I partly crawl back up into my cage quietly, _almost_ submissively, but I do not look at the door or the red demon. I’m exhausted. 

My body is shaking painfully, and also—with  _rage_.

I _hate_ the fact that I was just beaten again. Why was I beaten like that? All because I _growled_? 

I almost feel like growling again, but I don’t think I can withstand another beating.

“I can see you,” Razel purrs lowly, and I feel his hand stroking my burning ass. I flick my tail irritatedly, but I can’t get away from him.

“I see the anger burning inside you. You feel like you’ve been treated unfairly, don’t you?” He leans his head down close to mine to speak into my ear, and I flick my ears back and growl again.

“Mikage!” The manager shouts again, and approaches immediately, temporarily excusing himself from the client. “Excuse me a moment. This young one requires my immediate attention.”

He yanks me out of the cage once more, while I protest, and begins beating me again just as hard as before. Where he gets his energy, I don’t know—and I’m stunned that he can continue this way. I am screaming at this point, mad as hell, but I can’t do anything to stop it. This time, I _do_ start crying—tears of frustration and anger.

A new voice—the new client—has arrived on the scene, and his voice is low and strangely pleasant to my ears. When he speaks, my ears immediately tilt in his direction, despite my own predicament. “Stop this—he’s just a tiny thing—hasn’t he had enough? What could _he_ have done to warrant such violent treatment?”

What? What is he saying? 

The beating stops abruptly, and it takes me a moment to realize it was the new client who has physically stopped the owner’s hand.

No one has ever done or said such a thing on my behalf. Being publicly punished seems to be a treat or a performance around here, attracting crowds and attention, but no one actually has had _my_ interest at heart before. I crane my neck to look at the owner of that sonorous voice, and I see a giant silver cat standing there. He is absolutely _terrifying_ and intimidating, but incredibly beautiful. He appears to have a soft glow around his body under the low red light, but it must be his nearly waist-length silver hair floating around him.

He is tall and pale with a piercing pale blue stare. He is wearing a black eyepatch over his right eye, and he is dressed in blue and black leather, wearing black gloves on his hands. His hair and fur are long and silver, his ears are strangely small and rounded in shape. He has a beautiful, long-haired tail which is elegantly fluffed out behind him. He must be one of those tall breeds from Setsura as well, I’m sure. 

“We are trying to train him. Growling isn’t appropriate,” the owner explains. 

“I’m sure he will stop growling now, won’t you?” The silver cat approaches me, stroking my ears softly. I do not flinch from his touch. I like the way it feels, and I feel a little breathless when he touches me. There’s something _different_ about him from the other cats who have touched me. And… he smells really, _really_ good. I get a little bit of a funny feeling in my belly—it reminds me a little of what happened yesterday with Verg, but much more gentle and subtle. I find myself magnetically attracted to this cat, and my body wants to be near him. 

“Yes,” I whisper softly, looking up at his face. He has such fine features—chiseled cheekbones, an elegant nose, and full lips. His pale blue eye studies me closely, and it’s framed by long eyelashes, lush and full, like his hair and tail. I try to suppress the urge to reach out and touch him, but it’s too late! I watch my hand automatically reach through the bars to catch his tail, touching the fur softly, running my fingers through it. The tail flicks gently, brushing back against my hand almost as though he is playing with me, a completely unexpected move from such a dignified cat.

“What’s your name?” The silver cat asks with an expression I cannot read on his face.

“Konoe,” I answer immediately, a dazed look in my eye, and the paddle immediately comes down on my ass, jolting my entire body harshly, tearing an unexpected cry of pain from my lungs. The blow has also shaken the silver cat’s hands from my ears. 

“That is _not_ your name!” The owner cautions me sternly.

“Ah!” Tears fall from my eyes—and this time, I can’t stop them. “M-m-mikage.” I stammer, unable to look at the beautiful silver cat any longer. This humiliation is hard to bear. I would have _loved_ to meet this silver cat when I wasn’t in this state. My heart breaks. “M-my n-name is Mi-mikage.” 

The silver cat sighs and looks at the owner.

“I’m here for Mana. Is she working tonight?”

“She’s upstairs, the first room on the right.”

I look down at the floor and watch the silver cat’s boots walk up the stairs—I see a longsword and a dagger hilted on his back as he leaves—and I happen to notice his legs and ass as he walks away. Muscular, lean—perfect. I wish I could touch them—and I am appalled with myself for having such a desire.

I feel a strange sense of loss. Someone showed me kindness, and I have to watch him walk away. 

“He is _not_ for the likes of you,” I hear it whispered in my ear. “Those who show you kindness are no longer a part of your world.” It’s the demon speaking to me again.

I look up at him, and his clear blue eyes are shining brightly. 

“Just wait until you’re expected to service clients. How do you suppose your clients will treat you? You're badly mistaken if you think you will ever be treated with kindness.” A shiver goes through my body at his words—and it _isn’t_ a shiver of fear.

“You took your punishment well, little one,” he continues in his quiet tone. “I was pleased to see that you did not submit your will. Your anger is alive and breathing.”

“Why are you _here_?” I whisper a second time, praying to Ribika that the owner won’t hear me.

“I go where I have been summoned, of course.”

“Summoned?” I hiss. Not by me! I could not have done it, could I? How? In those nightmares? Accidentally? 

“Oh yes,” Razel looks at me as though he read my thoughts. “One of these is mine,” Razel says simply, stroking one of the tattoos on my arm.

How do I get rid of them?! How do I get out of here? The rage boils up inside my chest. I purse my lips and try to keep myself under control.

“You will have to choose,” Razel states. “Those who summon us must take responsibility, after all.” 

All on its own, my body reacts to the rage I am feeling inside. I strike out with my newly clipped, still sore, short claws, aiming at Razel’s throat and chest, and I tear his jacket, leaving thick red stripes on his chest.

He smiles widely.

“Your anger—you have such a _unique_ way of turning wrath into power! I like that about you. I think I will make you _mine_.” He seems utterly unperturbed that I have scratched him, and he doesn’t move away from me—and scratching him hasn't curbed my anger. Instead, he reaches into the open cage, grabs me by the collar, and forcibly drags me out.

Not until this very moment do I become I aware of the extreme difference in our statures. He’s as large as the silver cat, I think—much bigger than me—and seeing him this close—he is seething with a strange energy. When he presses his lips to mine, I feel his heat—his entire body radiates heat and power—I cringe with fear. 

His tongue invades my mouth—and it reminds me of the snake from my dream—it’s hot like the red snake was—when it singed my skin with its anger and heat—and it’s forceful, his fangs nipping my lips. 

However, I am hearing an uproar in the lobby behind me. As soon as I am released from Razel’s grasp, Ryo is on me in an instant, roughly grabbing the chain connected to my collar, slamming me down against the bars on the floor of the cage. I see stars glittering in my eyes when my head makes contact with the cage, and it starts to spin slightly. The owner is apologizing profusely to Razel, explaining that I’m in dire need of training, that I cannot be trusted, that I need a heavier hand, that I will be punished accordingly, etc., etc.

I realize now that I probably shouldn’t have scratched him or let my emotions run away with me like I did, but I really couldn’t help myself.

I can scarcely breathe because the collar is pulled so tight around my neck, and I start to choke, unable to get enough air into my lungs. My left arm is pulled from the cage while I am struggling to breathe. A feeling of dread comes over me when I hear the following words.

“We believe in an eye for an eye in this establishment. We will punish him in front of you or allow you to perform the punishment, whichever you wish. Your colleague had quite an unusual technique yesterday, and while I don’t usually allow this, I will make an exception in way of our most sincere apology.”

My head is turned sharply to the left, my hair pulled hard, craned in an unnatural position, my cheek pressed flat against the bars of the cage, and I hear Ryo’s smooth voice.

“Watch, little one, for this is what you’ve earned. Learn well, so you do not repeat your mistake.”

Razel is holding something—a tool of some sort—pliers, perhaps—and he reaches out to touch my left hand. Ryo has connected my collar to the bottom of the cage, which is why it is so difficult to breathe and I am unable to move, and my wrist is tightly restrained. I can’t tell exactly how, but I can’t move at all.

The devil's touch is hot against the palm of my hand, but I cannot even flinch. As I watch, he grips the claw of my pinky with the pliers. It _burns_ —searing my flesh—the heat so intense, I can’t keep myself quiet, and I start to scream. I don’t know how the tool has even gotten so hot—but it is absolutely scorching the entire length of my finger and into my hand. It doesn’t even occur to me what he is about to do with the pliers—at the moment, I am more afraid of the heat and the fact that I cannot move away from it. It feels like my pinky is being held to a hot stove. 

With his other hand, he touches my chin gently and brushes away my ears tenderly, saying, “I can get you out of this life if you so desire. You can make that decision if you choose.” Then, with a slight flick of his wrist, he pulls out my claw in its entirely.

My breath is pulled from my lungs at the same time as the claw is pulled from my finger—and I’m shocked to see how little blood comes out with it—but I nearly faint from the pain. It looks like he is simply pulling an errant weed or pulling out a splinter—it comes out easily in a single smooth motion.

However, after I see the claw removed, the scalding heat turns into a throbbing pain, unlike anything I could ever have imagined. I have never felt anything so excruciating. It’s more intense having my fingers slammed in a door, or crushed by a mallet or a hammer—and it’s a hot, searing pain that does not stop. My knuckles can’t bend from the paralyzing pain, and it throbs in time to the beat of my heart. I scream with all my might. All claws fully extend in sympathy, my fur bristles fully, and my fangs are bared.

Razel remains calm, and holds the claw in front of my face, which is still pressed against the bars on the bottom of the cage. I can't believe what I’m seeing, but he licks it off with his tongue, as though he has received a delightful treat. My pinky is bandaged tightly while I watch—and every touch to that finger feels like the claw is pulled a second time. It is throbbing so painfully—and it feels twice or three times the size—but I still cannot believe what I am seeing is actually happening. 

I’ve been declawed! 

Ryo leaves for a moment and returns with the claw in his hands—it looks like he has rinsed the blood from it, and he uses a drill to bore a small hole in the top. He threads a small cord through the hole and hands it to Razel with a bow, who accepts it gracefully. “On behalf of our establishment, please accept this small token as our apology.” 

Rubbing my ears tenderly, Razel says reverently, “I will wear this with pride, knowing its owner’s heart was full of wrath unlike I’ve ever seen.”

I watch in horror as he ties the cord around his neck—wearing it close to his heart, next to the rubies. My claw—next to the demon’s heart! My pinky continues throbs hotly, painfully. But I can do nothing. I cannot even move. 

However, the anger inside me has _not_ subsided. And despite the pain in my finger—and the shock—I cannot contain my rage. That demon took a piece of me—without my permission—and I can do nothing. I feel within me a rage that desires a fight to the death, a rage that wants to _annihilate_ any chance I have of survival, a rage that _hates_ that red demon for the damage he has just inflicted. 

“I _will_ make you mine,” Razel assures me. “Even when you’re like this—you can’t help yourself. You’re _seething_ inside, your emotions boiling over. You belong with me, don’t you?” Reaching into my open cage, he strokes me from the tips of my ears to the tip of my tail, and a shudder rushes through my body. I hate to admit it, but that actually felt kind of good.

My ear tips back slightly and my back arches a little. “You _know_ you do.”

I must be delirious. The pain from my finger is too much. It hurts too much. Then, he reaches to my bandaged finger and actually squeezes it. I cry out in pain—the pressure making me feel like it might explode—it honestly feels like there is so much pain in that small area that there is no room for it to go anywhere else. My scream seems to dissolve in my ears. I see the edges of my vision graying out and dissolving into blackness, and I hear a soft thump as my tail falls against the bottom of the cage. 

While unconscious, I have a strange dream about that silver cat. I’m kneeling on the ground—naked—and when I look up, I see the silver cat holding the chain attached to my collar. He leans down and kisses me—on the neck like he owns me—almost biting me, licking me, nipping me with his teeth, and he uses the chain to roughly pull me to my feet. 

In the dream, I am unable to act, but I’m incredibly aroused, trying to respond to his kisses—but I am paralyzed. I can hear him speaking, saying random unrelated things—I don’t understand exactly what he is saying, but I hear his voice—it’s smooth and quiet, low and calm—it’s pleasant in my ears, and it makes me relax and it feels good. 

In my dream, my pinky is still bandaged, and he takes my hand and kisses it gently. I hear him whisper, “If you were mine, you’d _never_ be treated like this.”

Even in my dream, tears prick my eyes.

 _Who is this cat?_  

I half-wake to a stranger caressing my ass, which is severely reddened from the owner’s paddling, and the hand feels cold on my skin. My eyes open briefly, but I don’t bother moving. If I lie here, not moving, pretending to sleep or be passed out from pain, I won’t displease anyone. So this is how I remain.

I do keep my ears pricked and nose perked up, waiting and hoping for the silver cat to return from his visit with Mana. I wonder if he is a regular customer. He sure is taking his time, because he doesn’t come back downstairs for the rest of the evening. What could he be doing for so long? Then, I realize, I don’t want to think about it. Or—perhaps I missed him while I was passed out, and my body detected his scent, and that’s why I had that strange dream. 

 _Listless_. It’s how I’d describe myself for the rest of the evening. I can’t decide whether the cage is more comfortable or the tiny room, but I need to stretch. Also, I hurt. I hurt so much. My finger—my claw—is gone. 

A few tears drip from my eyes when I realize this—and it will never grow back. All because of that red demon. While part of the anger remains, most has dissipated with the pain in my hand—the ache now extends to my entire hand and up into my elbow—and exhaustion. I rest my head on the bars of the cage and try to close my eyes against the stroking of my body.

Eventually, I’m dragged back into the tiny room, where I collapse willingly into the restraints, hoping for rest. However—Ryo stays and watches me.

“You don’t look contrite to me, Mikage. Not only did you growl at a customer—twice—you would not submit to the owner’s punishment. He’s upset with you. Additionally, you scratched a customer, and even after that, you don’t seem to have returned to the submission I expect.”

Oh, no. He can’t be thinking of doing this now. I know I’m not allowed to beg or speak, but I can’t help it.

“Please,” the tears leaking from my eyes, my body shaking in fear. “Please don’t, _please_ , Ryo!”

“You _dare_ use my name? At this point?” 

I feel a cane come down on my restrained tail. I cry out in pain.

“I’d like to try something a little different on you this evening since we aren’t getting results otherwise.” 

I tremble with fear. What else could they _possibly_ do to me? Pull a fang? My fur fluffs up suddenly, and I press my lips closed. I haven’t bitten anyone. I won’t—ever. I know they mean it now.

“Please, I-i-i can’t,” I sob.

I feel a strangely gently touch on my ass—a caress—when I’m expecting the cane—and Ryo’s voice says, “Oh, you can, and you will.” 

There’s a gentle push on my butt.

“Get up on your knees, Mikage.” 

I realize the restraints on my wrists are loosened, allowing the entire apparatus to slide backward. This pushes me into a position of being almost on all fours, except that my wrists are locked to the ground, and my elbows are on the floor as well. This puts me at an awkward angle, my butt raised up embarrassingly in the air.

My wrist restraints are locked in place on the floor, and I feel my knees loosen—the restraints slide out sideways, which awkwardly opens my legs slightly, and then locks in place, keeping my legs spread. I exhale suddenly, feeling incredibly vulnerable, and I want to bring my tail down to cover my private parts, which are now quite exposed, but the mechanism restraining my tail moves as well, lifting it even higher in the air and locking in place.

“How do you feel? Submissive?” 

I’m afraid to even speak, terribly afraid. What is he going to do to me? I desperately try to push my knees back together, but, of course, I can’t move them.

“Mikage, when yesterday’s guest was punishing you yesterday, I realized I haven’t been taking advantage of your full potential. I didn’t realize how sensitive you are.” 

I can’t see him—I think he is kneeling or crouching on the floor next to me, and I try to crane my neck backward, but I receive a smack on my ass—right at my sensitive sit spot—when I do. 

“Face forward. There’s nothing for you to see. When I want to see your face, I’ll let you know.”

My ass is in terrible shape from that paddling. I had no idea. That single smack burns—and continues to burn through my body rather strangely. And then his hand continues rubbing against up my ass.

“The owner would have stopped had you submitted like you did so well this morning. So let us get you into a more cooperative mood.” 

I feel his palm flat against my cheek, and then it slips between them for a moment. He brushes against my tight hole with a fingertip— _oh my gods_ —my heart starts racing in my throat, and I feel a scream starting to build in my chest. 

“Please— _don’t_!” 

“Oh—so sensitive! I don’t have permission to touch this part of you, though I suggested giving you an aphrodisiac. If this doesn’t work well enough, then we will try that tomorrow. And you should start getting used to the idea of being used this way—it will soon be your sole purpose.”

The other hand suddenly invades my mouth—the fingers pulling painfully at my tongue, poking at my fangs. I strain not to bite them—but I’m so scared, I might accidentally bite! 

“Unless, of course, we discover something amazing about this gorgeous little mouth of yours. Perhaps you have the lips, tongue, and throat of a god, able to take your client to heaven, and they will leave this—” he brushes against my asshole again, making me shiver with revulsion, “alone. But that remains to be seen.”

I start to gag on his fingers, and he chuckles. “If you’re gagging on my fingers, there is _no_ hope for you.”

The fingers on my asshole start to wander toward my dick—which is currently dreadfully exposed and vulnerable. The hand starts to stroke me, softly at first—and I find the sensation very strange. I want him to stop. It’s too sensitive!

The hand that was in my mouth takes over, but it is covered in something now— _not_ my own spit—something slimier—and that touch becomes smooth and silky, and suddenly, instead of revulsion, I feel a tingling, numbing, pleasurable sensation shooting up my spine with every stroke. I can also feel myself starting to sweat, and my dick plumps up in his hand.

It still feels intrusive, like when Verg was punishing me—but it most _definitely_ isn’t painful. In fact—it starts to build, getting more intense quite rapidly. 

“I see, you are quite the virgin—doesn’t take much to get you going—never even played with yourself, did you?” I can hear Ryo’s voice through my own quietly gasping breaths. I’m finding it hard to breathe, and a warm tingling sensation is running up my spine and down the length of my tail, making my ears twitch. 

A soft slap of a hand—just gentle—smacks my ass, right on my sit spot, and it makes my body jerk and I grunt. It sends a tingling sensation throughout my body—it feels so good! I am ashamed of the sounds coming from my mouth, and I try to silence them on my arm.

“Answer me.”

“Uh—no, sir,” a hoarse voice, breathless and desperate, comes from my mouth—and it’s accompanied with a sigh. I find I’m arching my back strangely, lifting my ass up in a gentle curve. 

“Ho? What’s this? What a _delightful_ and _polite_ way for a whore to ask for what he wants! You’re learning, Mikage,” my ear is licked, and he spanks my ass again lightly, sending those indulgent sensations through my body, and I gasp in delight.

“Now, I can see your body submitting to me—and this—it’s _beautiful_ ,” he murmurs, voice full of lust, and he smacks me again—lightly—scattering stars on the backs of my eyelids.

I’m at his mercy now, gasping with every stroke—arching my back, even eagerly trying to lift my tail—why? I don’t understand—and I receive one more amazing smack on my ass. It’s nearly enough to send me over the edge—but then a very tight squeeze on my dick, right at the base, brings everything to a grinding halt.

The squeeze is almost painful—but mostly, disappointing, since I wanted so much to experience that release—I could feel it just around the corner—the insides of my thighs are quivering, burning, almost, my knees are shaking, my mouth is open and gasping vulgarly, and I look back at Ryo in shock. 

“Your face—Mikage—innocence clouded over with lust—it’s simply divine.”

I drop my eyes in shame, a shiver coursing through my body when he brushes my shoulders and ears.

“We will display you like this at the auction. No one will be able to resist you.”

He releases his grip on my dick and slowly takes hold of my chin with his other hand.

“You will spend the evening like this. You will have _no_ release, and I’ll be sure to come in and assure you’re properly aroused— _without_ release. Let us see if that helps soften you to your new position any further.” 

I cannot believe my ears. He cannot mean to torture me like this! 

Every time he even touches me, my body tingles with expectation, anticipation, and hope—and I’m disappointed. I have an ache in my belly, and my dick is throbbing. I bend my knees to lower myself to the ground when he leaves, but I cannot rub myself on anything, I cannot relieve my own suffering—an itch that cannot be scratched—this is agony!

I feel something else inside my belly, roiling around delightedly, and I think of Verg. I can almost hear him laughing at me.

It’s hard to tell how much time passes, but every hour or so, Ryo returns, forces me back to my knees and repeats the process. The fourth time he enters, my balls are aching so painfully that I cry when he touches me. The sixth time, he doesn’t even need to touch my dick. When the door opens, my dick stands to full attention, rigid, painful, and dripping, and all he has to do is spank me a few times, and then he leaves. He makes sure to kiss my ears, however. He gets a good look at my face, reminding me that, “this is what desperation feels like. If you obey, you will be rewarded.”  

So—am I going to stay like this for... how long?

I am crawling out of my skin by the time he comes to collect me for the evening’s activities. 

“Please,” I whisper quietly, while my face is lowered to my hands. “ _Please_ — _release me_. I will do _anything_.” 

“ _That_ , I believe,” Ryo states. He has tried caning me for the evening’s activities, but he cannot even touch my ass—since I am so close to coming. My back is arched, and I am eager for even the cane at this point. I think it may be enough to send me over the edge.

Instead, he brings the cane down on the soles of my feet, probably another ten times, but doesn’t ask me to count—and smacks my ass with his hand afterward, making sure I’m still aroused. I am, desperately.

He also changes the bandage on my pinky—it’s so bruised and swollen—so painful—but after he spanks me a few times, I’m so aroused I’m drooling, the painful throbbing in the back of my mind, the only thing I can think about is my painfully swollen dick. He also cruelly canes the palms of my hands, even my left hand, which is burning and throbbing with the pain from being declawed. Strangely, as much as it hurts, I can feel my dick dripping thick transparent drops on the floor with every slap to my hand.

He stops when he notices my reaction, strokes my ears and says, “Good boy. You are ready.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you skipped this chapter:
> 
> Razel makes an appearance and gets Konoe all riled up with anger. He is paddled severely by the owner for growling. Konoe is so angry that he cannot get himself under control enough to submit to the punishment, so it lasts a long time—until another new guest arrives.
> 
> Razel provokes Konoe enough to get him growling a second time, and the owner paddles him again—but his punishment is interrupted by another guest—a silver cat, who physically stops the owner from thrashing him. Konoe gets a bit of a crush on this lovely tall cat who stepped up on his behalf but has to watch him go upstairs to visit Mana. 
> 
> His disappointment lets him be provoked by Razel a third time, and Konoe actually strikes out and scratches Razel—which earns him a public declawing of his left pinky. Razel takes the claw as a piece of jewelry, and Konoe is angry for the rest of the evening and in severe pain.
> 
> By the end of the night, Ryo doesn’t think his methods of training are working well enough, so he comes up with a new game plan. He spends the entire night jerking Konoe off—well, getting him super aroused but does not let him come: his new method of “softening.”
> 
> The next chapter starts with Konoe’s third evening at the brothel, aroused beyond belief.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: delayed orgasm, humiliation, severe torture.
> 
> Really, people, torture. I’ll have a chapter summary at the end.

I’ve barely slept. I couldn’t, though I may have dozed off for a few minutes—and it’s been over 24 hours since my last full night’s sleep. As a young cat, I still require at least ten hours of sleep per night, and twelve is better, so my body is wobbly and I can’t see straight. Add to this my current state of arousal, and I’m in bad shape when Ryo leads me out into the hallway.

My ears perk up immediately, my nose can smell scents I’ve never noticed before—sweet, warm, delicious, and tempting scents. I can’t seem to tear my eyes away from the gorgeous females preparing for the evening. They are helping each other get dressed, some glancing my way. 

I can’t understand anything—my brain is not functioning properly—and I am salivating so much I can’t control myself. I have the urge to rub myself up against them, which frightens me. I would never normally think of such a thing, but the urge is terribly strong.

One of the cats looks my way—the one with orange hair—she told me her name yesterday but I cannot remember. I’m staring at her breasts, which are pressed together and peeking out over the top of her dress—they look so soft, so tempting. I’d love to bury my nose in them, and I find myself unable to get the thought out of my head.

“Ryo—you have been so cruel to this boy! But gods, he smells amazing—he must be going to go into heat soon, isn’t he?”

Even her voice sounds sweet. Her words don’t make sense, but just hearing her voice makes me twitch my ears.

“That’s what we are hoping—we want to auction him off when he’s in heat, and it looks time he will start today or tomorrow.” Ryo pushes me down to the floor, and I kneel.

“I’m sure you haven’t done anything to make his symptoms worse, have you?” The female sounds like she is rebuking him, and I’m stunned she is allowed to speak to him this way—although, females are rare, and perhaps it is her choice to be here. Perhaps she chose this way of life, and her relationship with this house is different than mine.

My eyes wander to her delicately shaped collarbones. I wonder what it would feel like to lick them. She approaches me, lifting up my chin so I meet her gaze. She is probably five years older than me, I’d guess, and my vision shakes slightly. She’s probably as tall as me. I realize I’m similar in size, too.

“You are going to be just fine, though you may feel miserable right now, poor thing,” she whispers to me. She brings her face in close to mine and kisses my mouth very softly—which shocks me—and it sends a delightful wave of pleasure into my hips, and I can’t keep a small sigh from escaping my mouth. When she pulls away, she smiles at me warmly and says, “That’s for luck. If I could do more for you, I would. You’re awfully cute!” 

My chain is yanked roughly, pulling me to my feet, and Ryo leads me to the lobby. Once we arrive, I see my cage is no longer there. In its place, I see a strange-looking contraption, and I pull away fearfully.

If I had my cage, I would be able to touch myself, possibly relieving this incessant desire. I was hoping I could, in fact—I was counting on it. I wouldn’t ever want to do something like this publicly, but I am getting to the point where I don’t have the luxury to care. But this swing contraption—I don’t think this is going to work—all these restraints...

Ryo ignores my hesitation, pulling me forward. My body is worn down and exhausted since I haven’t had any sleep, so I’m not able to resist. He turns me around and pushes me down—it’s like a swing with two separate leather straps as the seat. He pulls my legs through straps to keep them secured, tightens the straps around my hips, and then attaches my ankles to smaller straps, loosely chained to the floor. My legs are spread apart, displaying my private parts openly and obscenely, and I feel my face heating up.

“Please,” I beg softly. I don’t think I can handle being on display like this. I can’t imagine the torture of being touched and fondled by strangers when I’m in this state. Perhaps Ryo will allow me to take care of myself before the evening starts. I rest my hands in my lap. “Please. May I—”

“Mikage, do you remember what I told you about your body no longer being your own?” Ryo takes my right hand and buckles a leather strap around its wrist. Then he does the same with my left—which hurts terribly since my pinky is still aching so much from having its claw extracted. I cry out when the belt is tightened.

Both my hands are lifted away from my body and attached to the chain just above and slightly behind my head. I’m displayed nude, spread-eagled, my arms overhead, and more aroused than I’ve ever been in my entire life. My tail lashes behind me, and I try to bring it up to my lap, trying to cover myself—its fur is bristled fully, so it does some good for coverage, but it’s terribly active and restless, showing my emotion and pent-up frustration. 

And the swing—it doesn’t stay still. It is attached to the ceiling and it can turn, though because my ankles are attached to the floor, I can only turn as much as my spread legs allow.

I find it hard to breathe, and I feel a humiliation like none I’ve ever felt washing over me. My face burns, and I am utterly beside myself, close to tears.

When the first client arrives, it’s the same huge tan blond cat who met me on my very first night. He promised to bid on my auction, and he’s returned already. Of course, he’s here for Mana again, but his eyes wander over to me.

“What’s this, now?”

“We are preparing Mikage for the auction, of course,” the owner explains. “It will be held the evening after next, so please join us.”

The blond cat approaches me, and I feel incredibly exposed. My heart begins thumping loudly in my ears, and when he reaches his hands out to grab my tail, which is currently quivering in my lap, I lean back slightly, trying to get away from him. Of course, I can’t go anywhere, and there is nowhere for me to hide.

“You’re quite exposed here, aren’t you,” the low voice mutters, “You can’t play the shy one tonight, sweetheart.” He yanks my tail roughly from my body, pulling it through his fingers. I feel every sore spot on my tail from where I was caned, and I wince audibly.

“Oh? What’s this? A _response_?” He grabs my chin and tilts my face up toward his, forcing me to look at him. To be _seen_ —to have my face seen while I’m in such a state, suffering like this, being tormented like this—it is hard to bear. My pride shatters like glass. I cannot think of anything more humiliating than this, and I feel a bright red blush burning my cheeks, creeping down my neck and chest. Blood fills my ears, my pulse pounds in them, and I know they’d be blushing if they were still their original color. 

Shame—I’m filled with shame.

The blonde cat keeps his hand on my chin, forcing me to keep my face on his. His other hand reaches out and strokes slowly down the length of my body, starting at my throat. It drifts casually down my chest, circling a nipple, tracing the lines of my chest and then dropping to my stomach, dipping to my bellybutton, and then brushing against the soft blonde fur just below my navel, combing his fingers through the silky strands.

“Blond fur here, huh,” he murmurs softly, taking a closer look. “Almost like your ears and tail turned black and this fur is the same shade as your hair. I wonder—you’d look like such an _innocent_ with your fur matching this color. Almost like a kitten. No—you _are_ a kitten. An adorable _kitten_.”

Having my nether fur stroked, while terribly intrusive, is also terribly arousing, and I’m so close to my limit that I start to squirm. A small sound squeezes unintentionally from my throat while he is petting me. The blond man chuckles, pleased with my response.

“I must ask you, kind sir, that while you are welcome to examine him, please do not release him. He is much more easily aroused than most, as you can see. It won’t take much to push him over the edge, and he is currently being punished. He is to earn his release only with good behavior,” the owner says authoritatively.

“I see he is enticingly sensitive,” the blond says. “Might he come if I merely touched him?”

“Well, I saw him pushed to his limited with only a paddling the day before yesterday, sir,” the owner brags. “ _Completely_ untouched—the paddling _alone_.”

“A paddling? You can’t be serious!” The large cat’s jaw drops. “That must have been a sight to see! I’ll _definitely_ be here for the auction.” Speaking to me, he drops a small kiss on my ears and offers a final stroke to my fur. “When I win your auction, sweetheart, I’ll see how many times we can finish you off in a night!” 

Then, he walks upstairs. I’m left in my swing—sweating, panting, frustrated, and relieved. 

After the blond goes upstairs, the door opens again, and another lone client arrives. I notice this one smells different. I can’t quite put my finger on it, and it isn’t the silver cat, but there is something about this guest that makes me turn my head. It’s similar to how I felt with the silver cat—but perhaps it’s because I’m so aroused.

It’s another large cat, this one with shoulder-length dark hair and a beard. He has an orange and black striped tail and the same small, rounded ears and large-sized stature as the silver cat. He is slightly broader. He has an attractive body and face—not quite as striking as the silver cat, at least at first glance. However, there’s something in the way he carries himself—he’s confident and proud, older, self-assured—that is _very_ appealing. 

I can’t look away. Maybe it’s because I’m so fucking horny. But I didn’t feel like this around the blond cat who just went upstairs.

When he enters, he explains to the owner that a blond cat, his friend, should have just arrived, and had come in ahead of him to have a good time without him. That wasn’t very nice to start without him. Which room was he in, again? Even the bearded cat’s voice sounds nice, and my ears almost seem to hum.

He and the owner argue back and forth about whether it’s all right to interrupt once things have started, or whether it would all right for the orange cat to just join him. The orange cat hands the owner a pouch of money, and then the owner agrees that yes, it would be fine to just join in.

“Mana’s room is the first room on the right upstairs.” 

The tiger cat has a low voice that is easy on the ears, and he also smells good—his scent travels through the air as he walks toward the stairs. I notice the swing has partly turned toward him, and I try to cover myself with my tail.

“Who’s this, then?” He stops in his tracks when he sees me, his ears perked up, nostrils flared just like mine.

“Ah—our newest addition. This is Mikage. While he is not available just yet, we will be auctioning off his virginity the day after tomorrow. Your friend has expressed interest, you see. You’re welcome to join us. Plus, once he recovers from his initial debut, he will be offering traditional services as well.” 

“Services?” The tiger looks at me, examining my body up and down, coming a little closer. “This is a _child_! Why do you have a _child_  in this establishment?!” His voice booms, and my ears flatten in surprise.

The owner shrinks away from the sudden outburst, and Ryo makes an appearance. 

“Sir, we may need to ask you to leave. We acquire all of our merchandise through legal methods, and just because it isn’t to your _taste,_ doesn’t mean it’s wrong,” Ryo explains. 

“My _taste_?! This has nothing to do with taste!” he cat barks. “You cannot display a child like this! He doesn’t look old enough to have gone through his first heat!”

Clear earnest amber eyes peer into mine, as a gentle warm hand clutches my chin. I feel a slight singing heat when he touches my skin, and my breath catches. “Little one, how old are you?”

“Si-” my words are interrupted.

“Mikage is eighteen,” says the owner. “And he will probably go into heat tomorrow. Can’t you tell? I’m sure you can—which is _probably_ why you’re so bothered.” He sounds quite prickly.

I drop my eyes, and the tip of my tail flicks in agitation.

“Tch,” the tiger cat clicks his lips. 

“Sir, if you are going to continue, I’ll have to ask you to leave.” 

The large cat sighs deeply and brushes my ear. “There isn’t a damned thing I can do!” Frustrated, he leaves.

More guests come and go, and I receive a lot of attention—and a lot more touching than I did the days before. Today, while it’s intrusive, I don’t hate it, but I think it’s because I am so aroused. But being this aroused and not seeing it through to a conclusion feels like I have an itch I just can’t scratch.

Then—another demon arrives.

This one is slightly smaller than the two who visited before, and he is dressed head to toe in shiny black leather, accented with green. Even his hands and neck are covered—his throat is adorned with several large spikes. His eyes are covered with a mask—and I don’t see how he can possibly see out of it, but he is definitely capturing me with a bold gaze. 

His hair is short and wild, bright green, and he has two sets of horns on his head—a thick pair on the sides of his head, and another set sprouting out of the top that looks like antenna. His outfit reminds me of an insect. He also has a black hairless tail that looks nothing like a cat’s—it’s too long and moves too much and in the wrong way. There is not a chance in _hell_ that he is a Ribika, but the owner welcomes him just the same.

He bows, with a flourish, introducing himself.

“I am Froud, a friend of Razel and Verg’s, and I’ve heard you have precious merchandise coming up for auction. It interests me very much.” 

His voice is softer and lighter than the other two devils, and he speaks in a sing-song tone, lightly, cheerfully, and floats toward me immediately without being invited.

“What a glorious costume you have for the season, Froud!” The owner exclaims. “You are most welcome. I’m ever so pleased your colleagues would recommend you to our establishment, even after Mikage’s appalling behavior last night.”

“Oh—well,” a small giggle slips out of Froud’s mouth, which he covers delicately with his hand. “I have to confess it was that treasure of Razel’s that brought me here.” 

What?

I jerk my head up, my foggy brain trying to make sense of those words. Treasure? Did he say he was envious of the claw Razel pulled out? A shiver runs up my spine.

“A simply delicious little morsel,” Froud’s cold hands—so cold—stroke my burning ears. “Ah, the burning heat of life and desire. You have been worked up rather cruelly this evening, haven’t you, Nekochan?” 

The green snake—that dream with the green snake. I remember.

“And your ears and this tail are a beautiful black color now,” he runs his claws through the fur, watching me shiver beneath the touch. “Oh—does that feel nice, love? I bet it does. I _love_ the color on you. You _do_ remember me, don’t you?”

He puts a hand beneath my chin and tilts up my face. Despite the sweetness in his voice, I feel something terrible seeping from this demon. What is he? What does he want with me? 

“Aren’t you just exhausted with this desire? Not that it doesn’t suit you—it most _certainly_ does. And I believe you are close to your first breeding cycle, aren’t you, you poor, sweet thing. At the mercy of such exhaustion. Such a young thing, so precious,” his voice coos as he strokes my ears with his other hand, keeping my chin steady.

“You have such a lovely face. And these ears—they are wonderfully soft, so precious.” He strokes them again, and the gentle touch sends a longing shiver down my spine. I have my lips pressed together, but I can’t repress the sound that still tries to escape—a yearning sigh. I _long_ for release, but _not_  at his hands.

“Ah—even that feels good? You are wonderfully responsive. I like that. You can relax a little. You don’t have to press your lips together like that. I’d love to hear your beautiful voice.”

“He is surprisingly responsive,” the owner states. “I’ve never seen another cat like him—and it can’t be faked by a male, of course.”

“We might have some fun together, my pretty young thing—which would be nice, of course. But what I am interested, you see,” and the demon lowers his voice conspiratorially, “is _joy_ —wouldn’t you love to experience true joy?”

“Joy?” My voice comes out strange—hoarse,breathless. I don’t understand what he is talking about. All I can think about right now is relieving my discomfort.

Froud moves his hand down my body, slowly—moving both hands along my sides—I shiver violently from the cold temperature under my arms, sliding down my waist, which dips in at my belly and curves out at my hips, and then lets his hands pull the swing closer to him once he reaches my ass. 

It feels good to have him touching my ass—cold hands or no—and I sigh quietly with pleasure. 

“Ah, what Verg wouldn’t do to see you like this right now!” Froud giggles a little. “You are so wound up and turned on right now—it’s just beautiful. If you wanted—it wouldn’t take much—I could push you over the edge...”

I feel a freezing cold touch just the tip of my dick, and I flinch—but at the same time—I _want_ it. I _need_ it. And a gasp escapes my mouth.

“You _want_ it, don’t you?”

The swing is tipped backward slightly—and I feel like I may fall, forgetting I’m restrained—but it feels like I may lose my balance. It frightens me—but I can’t do anything. I feel afraid—and my dick is touched again—just lightly.

It feels good.

“Tell me—if you want it.” 

He tips it back further, leaning me back so I can’t hold myself up with my muscles any longer, and I’m forced to rely on the strength of the restraints—I’m just hanging there—and trust that he won’t simply let me swing back. And my dick is stroked more firmly, making my hips respond immediately. I raise them up into his hands, gasping desperately.

“Yes! Oh, gods,” I whisper. “ _Please_!”

It feels so good— _amazing_ —I almost come, pleasure rushing all into my hips at once—except that it stops suddenly. I’m just not quite there yet, and the caress stops just short, interrupted suddenly, and my eyes fly open.

 _This is torture!_  

How is he getting away with this, first of all? I thought the guests weren’t allowed to touch me like this. What the hell is the owner doing? I try to turn my head, but he is opening the door for another customer.

Froud repeats the action —bringing me to the brink once more, and I forget my frustration in an instant, at his mercy again in minutes.

“Ah, _please_ ,” I beg, maybe this time, if I’m good enough, maybe I wasn’t loud enough, direct enough—and I can hear some crazy, obscene, vulgar sounds filling the room—which dissipate as soon as the stimulation stops—which it does _just before_ I can climax. I realize the sounds—they were coming from my _own_ mouth. 

“Please,” I start to beg, once the stimulation stops. I’m terribly confused. Didn’t he say he would help me?

“Nekochan, please what?” Froud asks as he touches me again, stroking my dick softly, even more gently this time, bringing me nearer and nearer to climax—and my breath gets wilder and wilder. “Please _what_?” 

I can no longer speak, but gasps and sighs are coming from my lips, as I am stimulated further. I don’t understand how he knows when to stop—but Froud seems to be able to bring me to the very edge and then pull me right back, almost like he can read my mind. It’s frightening. 

I’m completely unaware of the environment around me—but as soon as it stops—I plead again. 

“ _Please_!” 

“You are so _polite_ , Nekochan, such a _good_ boy. I don’t know why you would have been punished when Razel and Verg were with you. You’re being such a _polite_ boy for me.” His voice is gentle, twining around in my ears. 

Even the demon’s words of praise make my fur fluff out with pleasure, and I find I’m now leaning into his touch, begging for _more_ —begging for _release_ — _begging_ for it—but he will not release me. My body feels vulgar, dirty, downright filthy—but I can’t stop. 

I start to become a little afraid that he is only teasing me, and the thought—I wonder—is he torturing me? Does he have no plan to release me at all? 

As I’m brought up close to the edge of delirious pleasure once again, only to be left hanging and gasping for breath, I finally burst into bitter tears of frustration. 

“Please— _please_ —no more—I just can’t,” I look at the mask of the green demon, where his eyes should be, ignoring everyone else in the room. “ _Please_!” 

“Such beautiful tears, Nekochan! And you know I could help you, don’t you? But you see—” He speaks so kindly, so gently, stroking my ears, my hair, my face so tenderly, “your prolonged suffering prolongs my pleasure _ever_ so much. So for my sake, I’m sure you don’t mind?”

And he begins stroking me once again—ever so gently, caressing me so tenderly, making my body crave his touch—only to withhold my release. My body is expecting his touch now, longing for it, waiting for it, and each interrupted climax becomes more and more painful.

My body is shaking by the time he pulls his hands away from me, my thighs quivering with need, my tail matted and sticky, and I’m completely slick in sweat. I close my eyes, hoping to stop my tears, and I feel a long tongue shoot out and lick my ear. 

“Ah, you taste so sweet.” 

“ _Please_ ,” I beg. “I need release!” It’s urgent. My body can’t take anymore.

“Ah, let me tease you some more—you just taste so sweet—your tears—they are _delicious_ ,” Froud’s tongue licks my face.

I feel his hand begin stroking my dick again, and I can’t _stand_ it anymore! I can’t _do_ this again! 

“No— _please_ — _no more_ , please!” I beg, but he continues to bring me just to the edge—and I gasp and pant with pleasure, and then nearly scream with frustration when he pulls away. 

The tongue—when it comes in close to my face to lick my freshly falling tears—something inside me shatters and I jerk my head up and snap my jaws around it, biting it soundly with my fangs. 

I hear a shocked grunt from Froud, and he immediately responds by taking my lips in a violent kiss. He bites me back, but not hard. I’ve bitten him hard enough to draw blood—or some kind of bitter fluid—from his tongue. When he pulls away, he is holding his mouth and I see bright red blood dripping from his lips. 

“Oh, my gods!” The owner yells. “Did the creature just bite you?! I am so, so sorry! I can’t _believe_ it, even after all the work we’ve done! Ryo, I require your assistance!”

Froud laughs.

“Oh, it’s _really_ not a big deal.” 

“But it _is_ a huge deal! We train our pets to be _compliant_! No growling, hissing, scratching or biting!”

“Oh? Is he going to be _punished_ then? Even if _I_ was provoking him?” 

“It does not matter! There is _never_ a cause for biting a client. I sincerely apologize!” 

My body is still shaking and quivering with desire—but I think the realization of my action is starting to set in. And when I see Ryo with a tool in his hands, I start to panic. 

“Might _I_ be permitted, perhaps?” Froud asks. 

“Well, Razel was quite experienced. Again this is an unusual situation, but yes. Please, in form of our most humble apology, remove the lower left.”

“Of course.” 

The contraption I’m sitting in makes a loud crashing sound, and I find myself horizontal but still restrained, my head resting in Froud’s lap. He is stroking my hair kindly, soothingly.

“Can’t you imagine spending the remainder of your days with me like this? It would be wonderful!” He giggles in spite of himself. “Perhaps we should have one more go before we do this? Shall we?” 

He lowers his lips to mine and kisses them softly, and I feel a hand stroking my dick—softly at first, but then it gets more firm and aggressive—and it brings me nearly to the edge. I’m gasping and sighing indecently, squirming in his arms as though that will help—and then, he stops.

“Ahhh—such delectable suffering,” he brushes the tears from my eyes, and I am crying now, sobbing loudly in frustration, and when my mouth is opened, a small triangular wooden block is shoved into the back of my mouth on the right side. It’s pushed in toward my back molars, forcing my mouth open, and I’m suddenly petrified.

My brain is hazy, still not working right from lack of sleep—young cats especially need sleep to function—and I try to turn my head to work that block out of my mouth, but it’s no use. My head is grasped firmly by Froud’s hand, and he strokes my hair softly. 

“Ah, Nekochan, I can _feel_ your fear. It’s wonderful!”

He lifts up a tool, showing it to me first, turning it over in his black and green gloved hand—a different pair of pliers, it looks like—before lowering it into my mouth and then grabbing hold of my lower left fang.

My entire body seizes up and I scream, choking on spit and fear. 

Froud applies an enormous amount of pressure to the pliers in my mouth and I hear a sickening cracking sound, the sound of bones breaking. The pain shooting through my mouth is excruciating—of course, starting at the root of the offended fang, and it runs along the bottom of my jaw and chin, even reaching down my neck into my left collarbone and even up into my temple. He slowly moves the tool and my head back and forth in my mouth—causing me unspeakable agony—each shift in direction, a piercing shriek of pain is pulled from my lungs. Then, in a final swift motion, I hear a disgusting squishing sound that makes my ears flatten, and the pliers slide seemingly effortlessly from my mouth—with another burst of pain searing my chin, jaw, and mouth.

My body shakes and tears stream from my eyes, snot drips from my nose. I hear a clicking sound as my fang is dropped into a bowl next to my head.

Froud makes a surprisingly sexual sounding noise, and says, “Ahh, delicious! Now, keep still while I try to pick out these shards, all right? Otherwise, they may get infected and you’ll have to pull another. Plus it will hurt even more.”

I’m sobbing while Froud sits there, sighing over me, picking small shards of bone out from the sensitive cavity where my fang once was, blood dripping from my chin. I see Froud actually lick the blood from the corner of my mouth, and I shiver. 

I can hardly move at this point—I am so completely defeated—when I hear small pieces of bone being dropped into a metal bowl. I cringe and my ears twitch with each sound. The smell of my own blood, bone, and flesh is noxious. I’d vomit if I didn’t feel faint.

Ryo has me rinse my mouth with salt water once Froud has finished—and the water is blood red when I spit. It hurts to have the water touching it, my tongue touching it. Once rinsed, he presses a small wad of gauze in the spot where the tooth once was and it hurts, it hurts, it hurts! 

And then, Froud grabs my dick again, which has gone mostly soft. However, there must be something wrong with me. Because as soon as Ryo steps out to drill a hole in my pulled fang, apparently to make it into a necklace, my dick is already painfully stiff, and Froud has me gasping—painfully since the air passing through my lips hurts at this point. He brings me so close.

“Pweath,” is how my now pleading voice comes out. And I burst into tears, blood pouring out of my mouth with my tears. 

“Ah, simply delicious—so adorable and sweet, Nekochan. So responsive, even when you're like this! I’m going to have to make you _mine_ ,” Froud whispers. “You are _perfect_.”

Ryo returns with a necklace for Froud, and he claps his hands in delight. I watch with glazed eyes as Froud ties the necklace on proudly.

“Razel will be envious. Now, two things before I go. First, kiss the necklace. Say farewell to your tooth for now. Kiss it for luck for me.”

He presses my fang up to my lips. I tentatively give it a kiss. What else can I do?

“Second, one _last_ time for me, because it feels so good...” 

I feel his hand reaching out toward my dick, and I want to move away, but I can’t. Mercilessly, his cold fingers wrap around me and start to stroke gently—and my body melts into his hand, completely at his mercy. 

“Please, uh—please—no—uh—please—uh—release—uh,” I gasp somewhat unintelligibly with the gauze in my mouth. Even my own indecent sighs excite me even more! I’m so ashamed.

And again, to the brink, leaving me hanging, painfully—with that tooth throbbing—and for a grand finale, he also gives my bandaged pinky a squeeze, making me scream, but not lose my erection. 

“Ah, so beautiful,” Froud says, his voice low and hoarse. “I wish you were available tonight, Nekochan. Such joy I would show you—I’d love you to _pieces_! I’ll see you again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those not interested in torture:
> 
> A tired, worked up Konoe is displayed naked and vulnerable on a swing contraption in the lobby, rather than his cage—this is to prevent him from taking his arousal into his own hands, so to speak.
> 
> He receives several visitors. First, the original blond cat who visited him on his first day comes back a second time, and he’s really interested in seeing him so worked up. 
> 
> Second, he meets a tiger cat with dark hair and beard, for whom he feels a magnetic pull similar to the one he felt for the silver cat. This cat says he’s here for his friend but is outraged to find a child (Konoe) on display in the lobby. There isn’t anything he can do, and he is kicked out.
> 
> Third, another devil: Froud.
> 
> Froud tortures him—slowly bringing Konoe up to his physical limit, over and over again, and not letting him release. Eventually, Konoe bursts into tears, and while Froud is licking tears from his face, Konoe bites him. Froud ends up playing dentist, getting to torture his favorite Nekochan even more, by yanking his lower left fang from his mouth.
> 
> Before he leaves, however, he jacks off Konoe twice more—not letting him release, of course—wearing his new fang necklace home to show off to Razel.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: Belt spanking, punishments, really non-con stuff, blow-job, non-con aphrodisiac use.
> 
> There is a chapter summary at the end.

Shortly after my fang is pulled, I’m removed from the lobby. I’m brought back into the tiny room, my body still burning with arousal. I’m so sore I can hardly walk.

“Mikage, kneel,” Ryo commands.

“Please,” I beg, but I obey right away. I’m just hoping he won’t forget my arousal. “ _Please_.”

My ankles and wrists are restrained, but my tail is not. I’m given a small bag of ice for you mouth, and I rest my face against it, icing the outside of my jaw. It feels a little better like this.

“We don’t want the outside of your face to swell,” Ryo sighs. “You stupid whore, what came over you? Are you _truly_ an idiot? Look at me!”

My ears flatten to the sound of his anger, and my exhausted body quivers fearfully. 

“You stupid animal. Couldn’t you have waited till _after_ the auction? Now _I_ have to punish you as well! Don’t you understand how this place works?”

“Wh-what? B-b-but—h-he p-pulled my f-f-fang!” I cry.

“That he most surely did, but your behavior also disrespected this house, and just _two days_ before your auction. I have been _warning_ you, trying to _teach_ you. Why do you _refuse_ to learn?” Ryo pinches the bridge of his nose in a truly exasperated gesture.

“ _Please_!” I cry.

“There is nothing to be done about it now, so keep quiet, and be thankful for the ice. Gods, I just can’t believe you! You’ve lost a fang and claw within 24 hours! I’ve never _seen_ such a stupid fucking creature. What am I going to do with you?"

Another irritated sigh, and then, “Lower your upper body to the floor and present yourself to me.”

Present? Oh—he means—ah—maybe he will spank me—and, oh—maybe it will feel _good_. I can only _hope_. My heart starts to race in my ears, in excitement rather than fear. I comply instantly, almost eagerly, with his command, lowering my upper body to the ground, resting my sore mouth on the bag of ice, my arms restrained in front of me, my ass in the air. 

The restraints holding my knees shifts slightly, and my knees are pushed together, raising my ass even higher. Hmm—this will make my sit spot a little more pronounced, I think, if I arch my back.

“Do I need to tell you to keep this obscenely fluffy tail out of the way?”

“No, sir,” I whisper, coiling it up obediently, behind my back. I cannot believe I am displaying myself like this, and my dick is straining, dripping, and my thighs quiver in anticipation.

Smack! 

It’s a belt—which comes down hard—right against my sit spot—and takes my breath away. It burns, stings, and it _hurts_ , of course, but I arch my back and desire courses down my spine. The sound that comes out of my mouth is a grunt, not a cry of pain.

Smack!

Another hit, in the same spot, and I arch my back again, the same grunt coming out of my mouth—only this time, it’s followed by a small sigh and a tremble.

Smack!

The same spot—and my back remains arched, and my thighs part slightly, eagerly and vulgarly, and the tremble starts before the sound comes out of my mouth. So my grunt and sigh shake slightly, giving it a different quality, slightly more sexual in tone.

Smack!

This blow is even harder—but I take it easily, and this time, my response is a quivering sigh, no grunt. My thighs part a little bit more, but I remember to close them again right away.

Smack!

The belt licks upward—against my sit spot and my left cheek—and I give a little yelp, and another quivering sigh—I can’t _help_ it. It feels _good_! My breath is coming faster now. I think… I think this might just be enough…

Smack!

Against my sit spot and my right cheek—and another yelp and sigh—and my legs open almost too wide. I’m afraid he will notice my pleasure now, and I try to keep my lips closed. _Why_ is this belting feeling so _good_?

Smack!

Ah—the sound that drips from my mouth is in _no_ way related to pain, and I’m afraid I’ve given myself away.

“Oy?” Ryo says suddenly.

I have my head pressed against the ice, on the floor, and I’m lying there obediently. He hasn’t asked me a question, so do I need to respond? I make sure to keep myself presented obediently as well.

Smack!

Again—it feels good— _so good_ —I don’t even notice the pain, which thrums through my body—making my heart race. I think just a few more blows should do it. If he would only go faster... _please_... faster. I slightly lower my hips, moving as though to escape the blows. Then— _please_ —

Smack! Smack! Smack!

Ah— _just_ what I wanted! Breathless, I’m almost there now—I’m starting to stutter, my back curved almost unnaturally, and my thighs parted, shaking with need. I remember to make myself cry out—trying to make it _sound_ like I’m in pain—wondering if I am believable enough and then once again, instead of arching, I lower my hips again as if to escape the next blow— _please_ —

Smack!

As soon as the belt hits, I arch my back, lifting my ass up and out, presenting it fully, so the next blow will land exactly on my sit spot— _please_ —

Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!

The belt rains down on my ass, and it was aimed slightly lower, but because I presented myself so eagerly, the strap hits squarely on my sensitive sit spot, and I feel myself being swept past the point of no return.

I lose my breath and start to scream, releasing a strange sound— _please_ —

Smack! Smack! Smack!

All that desire, the past day’s worth of arousal that has built up in my small form, has now gathered in my hips and waist, and it’s too late to turn back now—and _finally_ I’ve found the release I’ve been searching for—the release that Froud was tempting me with and wouldn’t let me have— _please_ —

Smack! Smack! Smack!

Arching my back a little more, just a tiny bit more, just one more set of volleys—oh, _please_ —oh, yes—

Smack! Smack! Smack!

— _please_ —I raise myself up to my arms as my vision goes white—

Smack!

A particularly loud, vulgar sound that is _not_ a scream of pain is released from my mouth—it sounds like a vicious growl—and I feel my cock squirting white ribbons of cum all over my stomach and the ground below my body. My body shakes, shivers, shudders with pleasure, but most of all with such amazing _relief_ —relief of this pent-up desire.

The climax isn’t _nearly_ as good as being relieved of that torturous desire— _free_ from being brought to the edge so many times.

I’m left shaking and shivering—weak and vulnerable, my breath coming in slow pants.

I realize Ryo is shocked—he is actually _surprised_. He _literally_ didn’t see me coming.

“I-I-I,” I stammer nervously, now suddenly afraid for coming without permission. 

 _He is furious. Oh, gods._  

“That was most impressive, little one,” he hisses, grabbing my collar, staring at my face. “However, you did not get permission from _me_.”

Tears fill my eyes.

“I’m s-so s-sorry,” I stutter, “I c-couldn’t hold back! It t-took m-me by surprise!”

“That may be the case, but _now_ we have to start again.”

I’m horrified, my stomach sinking. I need _rest_. My ears droop sadly. “Please, if I could rest—” 

“Rest and climax are for whores who behave themselves and obey!” Ryo barks at me. I flinch away from the tone of his voice, ears lowered, my tail tucked in between my legs. “Not for whores who bite, scratch, hiss, and growl! Not for whores who cum whenever they damn well please! You need to earn these privileges!”

He pushes me to the floor roughly, leaving me cowering in fear.

I hear the door open and close—did he leave? But I stay flat on the ground, waiting. I do not move. In a few moments, he returns.

“You have one more evening in which to attract guests. Your actions right now and,” he places his hand on my forehead, making me flinch, “your current body temperature make me think you’re probably about to go into heat. So, unfortunately, this is going to be even more uncomfortable for you, but I want you to look compatible with as many cats as possible. Present yourself.” 

Reluctantly, I raise my ass in the air and lower my torso. I feel a sharp spank on my ass, which brings tears to my eyes and makes me look over my shoulder—it was _hard_! What was that for?

“When I tell you to present yourself, do it _immediately_. Don’t delay.”

I lower my ears, grit my teeth, and press my thighs together.

Suddenly, the contraption holding my knees is unlatched, and I feel my knees sliding apart, spreading my legs a little wider, and then it latches. I am very uncomfortable and I try to squirm out of position, trying to press my thighs back together.

“This will be good practice for you, Mikage. This is how you will be touched after your auction, after all. You should get used to it. I’ll only give you an aphrodisiac today—but you should realize, this part of your body will soon receive a _lot_ of attention.”

I feel his hands stroking my now _very_ sore ass, slipping dangerously in between my cheeks like they did yesterday.

“Uh," A small noise comes out of my mouth. I’m _afraid_ , remembering what happened, and I feel my cheeks being pushed apart and long slender fingers stroking my tightly closed hole. “No! _Please_!” It’s a desperate squeak, a cry for help.

I receive a harsh slap to one of my cheeks. I flinch in terror.

“You should have thought about that before climaxing during your punishment!” The hands keep stroking, fingers keep pushing against me, and I feel one try to push inside. “All right—now, for the aphrodisiac,” I feel Ryo’s finger, along with something else, trying to force its way inside of me, and I reflexively lower my tail.

Ryo grabs it, gives it a painful yank upward, moving it out of the way, and I yelp in pain, tears leaking from my eyes, and he gives my ass another smack for good measure, which makes me grunt. While I just came with a belt spanking just a few minutes ago, my butt is really, _really_ sore now, and every smack is _excruciating_. I don’t understand the difference! Why does it hurt so much now?

“Did I say you could do that?”

I’m in tears from the discomfort—the sensation is so strange, so foreign. No one has tried to force anything inside me before, and I don’t _want_ this.

“N-no, sir—”

“Then be still and obey. Relax your body.”

My thighs are quivering, but it’s such a strange feeling—and it’s painful. When his finger tries to force its way inside, pushing into the tight ring of muscles, my breath quickens and panic rises.

“I told you, _relax_. It won’t be so painful for you if you relax, little one. You may find you actually _enjoy_ it.”

I feel something damp dripping on my arms, and it’s my own tears. When I notice, a sob leaks from my throat as well.

“Oh, stop that,” Ryo says. “I’m not hurting you. I _could_ do this in a way that would hurt you, and I’m being deliberately _gentle_ with you. So stop your weeping.”

Is he saying he could make this hurt _more_? I make my best effort to quell my tears, but the only thing I can stop is my sobbing.

“After what you pulled this evening, I _should_ make you hurt,” he continues—and that makes my mouth ache. “However, I think you have been punished enough for that stunt. Surely, you won’t bite another client again. Though, I thought you learned your lesson from Razel-San, and amazingly, you didn’t.”

The finger finally works its way through the tight ring of muscle and delves more deeply inside me. I can’t help lifting up my upper torso slightly in response to the sensation, but I’m immediately pressed back to the floor.

“Keep yourself presented, Mikage, your upper torso on the floor.”

 An uncomfortable groan leaks from my mouth and I’m feeling filled past capacity.

“This should do,” Ryo says, although he doesn’t immediately withdraw his finger. “You are very tight, little one. Someone will soon be enjoying you to his fullest—in just a few days from now.”

I feel that finger stroking my insides uncomfortably, and I bear down, trying to expel the finger forcefully. To my surprise, the finger does come out, but something else stays inside of me—and my ass is smacked, and _hard_ , by the hand belonging to the finger most recently expelled.

“What do you think you are doing?” Ryo hisses in my ear. “You are to _remain_ relaxed and not move from this position, or I will give you another. With your heat cycle, I’m afraid that you might overdose. But I _will_ risk it if you disobey me again.” 

My thighs tremble fearfully, my tail droops, and my ears fall apologetically.

“I-i a-apologize,” I whisper. “This i-is all s-so s-s-strange.”

“Just wait, and you will feel better soon.”

A soft caress my ass lets me know I’ve been forgiven, and strangely, it starts feeling good— _really_ good—quite suddenly, and a small gasp escapes my mouth. What is happening to me?

I can feel my dick starting to plump up, all on its own. My body starts sweating, my heart starts to race, and my skin starts to tingle. This is so different from yesterday—it happens so suddenly. Is it the result of what he has put inside me? Whatever that was has started to melt, becoming part of me, and I can feel it oozing and liquefying, slipping and sliding inside my body.

“Keep your ass up high—I don’t want you to drip onto the floor. Keep as much as you can inside,” the command comes.

Even his commanding voice makes me shiver with a strange pleasure. I struggle to catch my breath, and I feel a little light-headed. I try lowering myself to the ground again, hugging my body together, hoping this will help my strange symptoms and get me feeling normal—but the moment I do, I receive a hard slap to my buttocks and I raise myself back up.

However, I feel something dripping from inside me—it’s now leaking from inside me—dripping slowly, thickly, wetly, grotesquely—I can feel it in my inner walls—and it’s driving me a little crazy. I feel light-headed as I trace the dripping sensation down toward my entrance, and it sneaks past the ring of muscles, and as much as I tighten them, it still sneaks out and starts to drip out of my asshole, down the space between my balls and my ass, and then along the inside of my thigh.

I receive another smack to my ass—hard—and I gasp. That spank—it didn’t hurt as much as the others, however—it feels kind of _good_.

Although—what did I do this time? Did I _deserve_ to be spanked? Did I deserve _that_ rough treatment? I can feel tears burning in my eyes, and one sneaks down my cheek. The injustice of all of this—it’s too much.

“I told you to stay still, and you didn’t,” Ryo’s voice is spoken directly into my ear, close enough for his lips to brush the soft fur on the inside of my ear, and an unexpected shiver rushes through my body. “Now, you are leaking. Stay _just_ as you are, and do _not_ move.”

The commanding voice again makes me shiver. I realize Ryo’s voice sounds different, and not just because he is closer. I can hear him breathing. I can hear _myself_ breathing, and I’m breathing rather roughly, raggedly, like it’s difficult to take in even breaths of air. I’d almost call what I’m doing as gasping for breath, and it makes my ears twitch.

I can also feel that my heart rate has increased significantly—even though no one is touching me, and I don’t currently feel threatened. I can feel it pulsing in my body—and I can hear it pounding, throbbing, loudly.

It’s very hot in here—and for once, I’m actually relieved not to be wearing any clothing. It’s a strange thought to go through my head since even at home in Karou, I would _always_ wear something, even when I was alone. I was never a cat to sit around naked. Not ever. I was too modest for such things. I would always cover myself. But I am _so_ hot. I can feel beads of sweat shimmering on my skin.

Just as I think such a thing, I feel a touch on my shoulder—I think it’s Ryo’s finger—and he traces a line on my skin, from the middle of my shoulders, down my spine, dipping into the curve of my lower back and then moving out to my waist and hips. The finger slides easily, gliding over the top of my damp skin, moistened with sweat. Instead of pulling away from the touch like I would normally want to do, I find myself wanting to push toward it.

Is this just exhaustion? I’m so tired, but I want _more._ I want him to touch me more. 

I follow the finger as it trails along my waist and stomach, under my arms, which are outstretched and restrained, and back up under my throat, all along my chin, which it lifts gently.

I find myself looking up at Ryo, who is staring at me.

“It looks like it’s working beautifully already, Mikage. How do you feel?”

How do I feel?

“I—um,” I swallow thickly, blinking slowly, “I feel... good. It feels _good_. It’s hard to breathe, and I feel really, really _hot_ , and I want...” I look up, timidly, to Ryo’s questioning gaze. Green eyes, he has green eyes, beautiful green eyes, I’ve never noticed how beautiful his eyes are.

“Yes, precious? Tell me what you want. You may tell me,” he coaxes gently, stroking my chin, my ears—his touch leaves a tingling sensation behind, like glitter—I can almost see a sparkling trail of glitter left behind his fingers when they leave my chin, and it sends a flurry of tingling sensations down my throat, making me shiver.

“You have beautiful eyes.” What? Did those words just come out of my mouth? What the hell is wrong with me?

Ryo smiles at me indulgently. “Thank you, my dear. What a good boy for you to say such a thing to me. What do you want, my dear?”

“I want you to touch me more.” The words tumble from my lips and tingle my ears when they come out, making me shiver.

“Do you? How would you like me to touch you? How exactly?” His words make me shiver even more.

“Ah,” I become slightly shy, dropping my gaze, but _without_ his touch, I feel pain, physical pain, and an excessive heat that absolutely overcomes my body like a fever. It makes me shake and shudder. “It’s painful when you aren’t touching me—please—I would like you to touch me however it pleases you.”

“ _That_ is what I’d like to hear from you, precious Mikage,” Ryo’s praise is accompanied by a stroke to my ears, which feels amazing. I push my head up into his hands, trying to maximize the contact. “I’d like to try something a little different. I’m going to release your restraints, but I want you to stay on your knees until I command you. Do you understand? Do you think you can obey me?”

“Yes, sir,” I’m overcome with excitement and anticipation when I feel the restraints released on my wrists and ankles. I remain on my knees obediently. 

“What a good boy,” Ryo’s praise goes straight to my hips, pooling there, and it feels _so_ good, my dick getting harder and harder, and my face blushes. “Ah, you like praise, do you? Such a sweet thing.” Another stroke to my ears and chin, just gentle. I feel my tail demandingly thumping on the ground behind me—I’m unable to control it, as much as I try.

“Try to calm your tail. It’s unseemly.” I work harder to quash its movements—it’s a hopeless task—and end up pulling it toward myself with my hands, pulling it beneath my legs, squashing it beneath me, but its violent movements serve to brush against my nether parts in a way that turns me on, even more, making me sigh and gasp. It’s terribly distracting, so I pin it beneath my knees instead.

My eyes are watching Ryo—he is currently my master—and I have a strange urge to do whatever he asks of me— _anything_. What has come over me?

Kneeling like this, I can feel more of that thick liquid leaking out of me, as much as I try to clench myself, I can still feel the slick, sticky fluid dripping onto my thighs and my calves as I’m kneeling obediently. Normally, it would feel disgusting, but for some reason, the sensation makes my breath hitch, speeds up my heart, although I worry that Ryo might discover what is happening and punish me for it. Although, even _that_ excites me, and thoughts of that punishment send shivers through my shoulders and down my spine into my tail.

My black fur on my tail is completely bristled—even squashed beneath me, I can feel its softness on my legs—and it feels so nice. I want to rub against it even more. I think of how Froud was touching me yesterday—the very _thought_ of it nearly brings me to the edge.

 _Wait—_ my thoughts are interrupted by a rare rational one. Didn't I _just_ get in trouble for climaxing during a beating? What on earth is _wrong_ with me? Am I all spun up _again_? Already?

But those thoughts are immediately clouded over by the throbbing desire of my own pulse and, frankly, my cock.

I find my hands keep traveling toward my own dick—shockingly—and I struggle to keep them on the floor on either side of my knees. Ryo seems to be watching my struggle and smiles.

“You have so little experience with this sensation, don’t you? Have you ever pleasured yourself?”

“Pleasured myself?” I ask, looking up at him with wide eyes, unsure of what he means.

“Perhaps you’ve had a sexy dream, or a cat you desire who is out of your reach, and you imagine that you get together with him or her. Have you ever touched yourself while imagining something like that?” 

“Oh, no—never,” I admit. A cat I desire who is out of my reach—that silver cat! But what a great idea—my hands start sneaking toward my lap again. 

“Not now, Mikage! Your body is _not_ your own!” Ryo snaps, and my hands drop back down to the floor immediately. “Tonight, I want to see if you can pleasure someone else.”

“Someone else?” I ask, slightly disappointed.

“Yes, and with your mouth. This will be required of you, part of your job. I will teach you. I’m sorry that your mouth is so sore—it can’t be helped, I suppose, but it’s your own fault you just lost a fang.” 

The idea of having anything in my mouth right now is a little terrifying, so I shrink back a little.

“I think the aphrodisiac will make it easier for you, so please approach me,” Ryo takes a seat in a chair.

I obey.

“Keep in mind, I won’t hesitate to pull another fang if you should bite me.”

“Yes, sir,” I say rather timidly. "I would _never_ bite you," I look at my master lovingly. I swear I don't know _what_ has come over me.

“I know you would never. You are a good boy. And this is a _kindness_ for you. The owner wanted to throw you to the wolves, but I thought we should teach you _something_ , give you _some_ skill, teach you at least a _little_ of what to expect.” 

“Thank you, sir,” I say very quietly.

“That’s my good boy,” Ryo strokes my ears again. “I wish I could take your first time myself—I would make it so pleasurable for you. I’ve never seen someone as responsive as you. I’m rather envious. Now, follow my instructions. Come closer.”

My body starts to shake with nervousness.

“No need to be nervous or afraid, my dear. First, be _bold_! Unbuckle my belt and unzip my trousers.”

I look up at his face in shock, and he nods his head expectantly. I have no choice but to obey.

“Now, before just taking it out, it is a good idea to stroke it or nuzzle it, like this.” 

Grabbing my hair, he pushes my head to his crotch and forces me to nuzzle his dick with my nose and mouth, rubbing my face in his still-clothed crotch. My mouth is still so sore, and I suffer pain at the sensation.

“Blow some hot breath there—yes—like that—good boy,” he sighs. I am trying to be obedient, plus he is frightening me, and my mouth hurts so much, so I do the best I can.

“See how I’ve gotten harder already? Now, you can gently take me out with your hands—both hands— _without_ claws—very good—using _both_ hands will make your clients feel bigger, even if they aren’t that well endowed.”

He moves my body closer to his, pulling me in between his legs. 

“Now—you can do this several ways. I’d recommend you start licking, like you would a delicious treat, from the hilt to the tip. Try that now—aaahhh—try opening your mouth wider—make sure those fangs are covered—Yes—that’s it—perfect!”

I obey.

“Then, you can repeat this a few times, and it again makes the client feel much larger than he actually is. As you may or may not know, the tip is quite sensitive, so you can also lick just the tip, and use your hands to squeeze or massage the base—try it now—go on—a little more tongue— _more_ tongue—like that—yes, that’s it—and that can be—Ah—quite nice, too.”

There are lewd sounds coming out of my mouth as I’m licking his cock. I’ve never done such a thing, of course.

“Go ahead and keep making eye contact—yes—like that—look up under your lashes like that—like it _hurts_ you—that’s perfect! Ah— _perfect_! And if you want to _show_ some fang without actually using them, that’s fine—like that—that’s good—but don’t you _dare_ use them, or they too will get pulled—ahhh—yes—that’s good—and keep going— _perfect_! Yes, like that. And now, put as much as you can into your mouth.”

I choke a little, trying to keep my fangs covered.

“Ope—no choking—though that’s _quite_ a virgin’s reaction, so I think it’s okay for you to do that once or twice, just make sure you keep your fangs covered. Uuuuaaaahhhh—like that...”

I have almost all of him in my mouth, and I think I might gag.

“Relax, now, Mikage,” he assures me gently, stroking my hair and my ears lovingly.

I choke again, but then I relax and realize that my throat can open up slightly. I feel him grab the base of my tail and start massaging me there. That brings a purr into the back of my throat, and then I hear Ryo groan.

“Uuuuuaaah—yes, your purr—it’s delightful. Now, most clients will want you to move your head, so try bobbing it up and down yourself.”

I try to obey, but I don’t think I understand what he means, and he pushes me roughly back to my knees.

“This is what I mean,” Ryo says and starts thrusting his hips.

I start choking and coughing desperately, unable to breathe—but my purr is still going strong, and saliva is dripping out of the corners of my mouth onto the floor. Wet squishy sounds are making my ears twitch—and making my own dick twitch, much to my surprise, and I find I’m getting hard in spite of myself.

But I do need to breathe—and I start feeling a little desperate. After a rather deep cough, I have pull his dick out all the way and take a deep breath.

“Mikage, just breathe through your _nose_ , you silly thing, and you’ll be _fine_ ,” and he strokes my hair and enters my mouth once again, and starts to fuck my mouth once more. I still choke, however, and gag, and I hear him panting and gasping and groaning—and suddenly—his body jerks and he releases his cum in the back of my throat.

I can feel it leaking down my throat in a thick stream—salty and bitter—and I feel _so_ dirty. But my body is shaking with desire when he is finished.

“Then, you clean up your client, of course, by licking him off. Go ahead now, come."

I obediently lick him off the rest of the way, licking off the remaining cum from his dick, watching as he shivers with his remaining pleasure, the relaxation taking over his body, and I find myself envious, desiring the same release.

“That was very good, Mikage. You did a good job, especially for your first time,” he rubs my ears, and my ass—and stops suddenly.

Oh—oh, no, he’s found the leaking aphrodisiac.

“ _What’s this?_ ” His voice sounds almost menacing.

“Sir, when you had me kneel, some of that stuff leaked out a little,” I say quietly.

“You didn’t think you mention this to me!?” He is almost shouting now.

“Sir, you told me not to speak unless I was spoken to,” tears are covering my voice, and I am terribly ashamed.

“Now, we have to give you a second dose. I don’t know _what_ this is going to do to you if you indeed go into heat tomorrow. But I certainly wouldn’t want to be in your position!” He gets up from the chair in a huff and leaves, slamming the door behind him. 

I think I’ve already absorbed most of it, so what is the big deal? But he comes back in and snaps, “Present yourself!”

I’m not in the restraints, so I have to simply lower my torso to the floor and raise my ass. I'm not sure I can make my body do this.

I feel a slap on my ass, and he barks again, “Open your legs more, Mikage.” 

I slide my knees apart a little, and the humiliation begins. I want to close them so much when I feel his finger poking around back there. Why does he have to do this? I would do anything to avoid this! My tail lowers when he pries my cheeks apart, and his hand comes down, slapping my ass, hard.

“Get this fluffy tail out of the way, now,” he snaps. I tentatively move my tail, raising it out of the way, and I end up holding it with my hands because I can’t keep it from lowering over my asshole. The touch is simply too intrusive.

As soon as I feel his finger breech that ring of muscle, I accidentally raise my torso, raising myself up to all fours, and my ass is smacked again.

“Get back down there!”

I obey immediately. It was a reflex—I couldn’t help it. My body is shaking now, and I can feel his finger pushing its way inside me, so tight—ugh—so painful—tears are squeezed from my eyes, and a sob comes from my lips.

“Please,” I whisper, my thighs trembling. “ _Please_ —isn’t that enough? Please?”

“This is what you’ve earned, so deal with it,” the harsh voice returns. My face is wet with tears, but I keep my sobs quiet. I can feel that he’s left the pill—or whatever it is—inside me—so why isn’t he withdrawing his finger? It feels like he’s exploring my inner walls, stroking me inside—and I _hate_ it.

“ _Please_ ,” I whisper again. “Please stop.”

“You are not to move from this position,” Ryo’s voice says, roughly pulling out his finger in a sudden swift movement. “I’ll be keeping you restrained tonight, although in another way, so you can actually get some sleep.”

I am bound—my entire body is bound—using a thick strap rather than restraints. My legs are bound together—tightly, but not so tight that I lose circulation. My arms and hands are bound behind my back; again, tightly, but not so tight that I cramp or lose circulation. I’m rolled to my side, and I cannot move from that position—I cannot roll onto my stomach—Ryo says something about not being able to rub myself on the floor.

And then he leaves me.

I am exhausted—so tired—and ready to sleep. I yawn and close my eyes—and then my heart starts to race. All the blood in my body rushes to my dick—and I think the act I just performed on Ryo. I cannot get it out of my head. Would that elegant, beautiful silver cat enjoy such an act? Would he perform such an act on _me_? What about that orange and black tiger cat—or both of them together? I cannot seem to stop the images rushing through my head, and I think I might be going a little crazy.

Oh, gods! Such thoughts are almost enough to make me come! I close my eyes and imagine what it might look like, seeing the silver cat on his knees before me—only one pale blue eye staring at me, the other covered by the eye patch, his mouth full of my swollen dick—and I can’t think anymore! Or myself, on my knees, before the silver cat, looking up at him. I'm sure the fur down there is as silver and long and lush as the fur on his head. Wouldn't it be? Oh, my gods! Help me, Ribika!

I can’t imagine the tiger cat on his knees before _anyone_ —but I try—just for a moment—would his beard tickle, I wonder—would it scratch? Oh, maybe he would, maybe he would lick me, tease me, just a little. I don't know.

How can I think such a thing of such an elegant cat, and then of such a kind older man? What is wrong with me?

I’m going to go crazy!

I try to roll onto my stomach, to try to touch myself, to try to rub myself on the floor and I can’t. If I could just get rid of this... problem, I would be all right.

I’m stuck here, now more turned on than I have ever been, and I can’t move. I think I am going to die like this! I’m so tired, and I can’t sleep. This isn’t working for me. What is happening to me? 

“Please!” I yell. Maybe I can get one of the females to come in and help me. 

“Please, help me! _Please_!” I start screaming for help. “Get me out of here! I can’t do this anymore! I’m going to go insane!”

I realize I am crying now—probably from lack of sleep, excess of whatever drug Ryo gave me, and whatever my body is doing. I’m shaking and shivering, and I am burning with fever.

“Help me, please!”

Realizing no one is coming, I change tactics.

“ _Water_ , please! I need some _water_! Please! I need something to drink! Please! I'm dying of _thirst_!” My voice doesn’t even sound like my own.

“I’m so hot—I think I may be sick—please! Won’t someone please _help_ me? _Please_!”

“I’m sorry, I’m so _sorry_!” I try again. “I will behave—I will do anything you ask!”

I wait—and wait and wait, and no one comes.

“Please—Help me! _Please_!”

I finally dissolve into fresh tears when I realize that no one— _no one_ —is coming for me.

“ _Please_ ,” sobbing now, tears taken over my voice, “Just—help me.”

A seed of bitterness takes root in my heart. Did Tokino’s father know what he was getting me into? How much money did he make on this deal? Did Tokino know? Where the fuck is he, anyway? What the _hell_ was he thinking? When he said he was going to come and see me, did he mean, my _services_? I thought he was my _friend_! I'm so angry I hardly know what to do with myself. 

Then, the anger dissolves again into pain.

The pain dissolves into grief. And I am able to sleep. Just a little. Just a little bit.

Tokino. _Please_. Help me.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter summary:
> 
> After Konoe gets his fang pulled, he's taken back to that tiny room for additional punishment. As per the house rules, he also disrespected the house when he bit Froud.
> 
> He is given a belt spanking--much to his delight, actually. And he comes, much to his relief, not by accident, and much to Ryo's surprise and anger.
> 
> This gets him in even more trouble. Ryo gives him an aphrodisiac (up the ass), which poor Konoe does not prefer, but it seems to work pretty well. And Ryo does him the "favor" of teaching him how to give a blow-job. He does pretty well, but because he leaks out some of the aphrodisiac, he ends up with another humiliating dose.
> 
> At the end of the chapter, Konoe is left bound, so he can't take care of himself, fantasizing about giving and receiving blow-jobs to the silver and tiger cats he met earlier in the week, and he calls out desperately for help, knowing the other cats in the house can hear him. He gets no reply. He calls for help, calls for water--he is in heat and is thirsty--and apologizes for his "bad behavior." And the last part is that he is left grieving over his relationship with Tokino and Tokino's father--how much did they know about this place? And when Tokino said he'd come to see him--did he mean he'd seek Konoe's services or come get him out of here?
> 
> Poor little guy.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because Konoe can't get enough torture--one more chapter.
> 
> Trigger warning: Beating, but then some visitors that aren't as bad as the last ones. Well--they aren't AS bad. Just sad.
> 
> Skip to the summary if you don't dare.

Morning comes too soon—or the next evening—I can’t tell what time of day it is. It’s time for my performance, at any rate. Ryo appears and unbinds my body, which is sore and stiff, as well incredibly aroused and unfulfilled. I was able to get a little sleep, however.

He is not at all pleased, however, with my screaming during the night.

I am beaten severely—“softened,” as he calls it—for having disturbed the ladies’ evening.

“Don’t you realize that your screaming disturbed our girls’ nights rest?”

Smack—against my poor tail, sending a burning sensation down my spine.

“You need to shut your mouth and accept the punishments you earn.”

Smack—against the soles of my feet.

“Shut your mouth unless something is actively is being done to you.”

Smack—against the palms of my hands, which have been restrained again, my declawed pinky from my left hand searing like fire.

“When you’re being beaten like this, we _expect_ you to cry, of course.”

Smack—against my tail again. I notice he isn’t hitting my ass at all, which is trembling with expectation.

“We expect you to cry when you’re being punished.” 

Smack—my toes curl up against that blow.

“Of course when you’re beaten, it should hurt.”

Smack—the pain in my finger is so painful I scream out loud.

“But when you’re left alone, we expect you to be quiet and leave the girls in peace.”

Smack—smack—smack.

I’m left a pile of sobbing tears, my ass still high in the air, hoping for a smack—even just one—but instead, I feel a hand caressing me.

“I’ve learned since yesterday. You’d really _love_ it if I spanked your ass right now, wouldn’t you?”

I’m silent, not knowing if I should answer. 

Smack! The cane comes down on my tail again.

“Answer me!”

“Yes, sir,” I answer, ashamed. 

“It feels good to you, doesn’t it? When you’re so turned on and horny, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, sir,” I admit, also quietly and feeling ashamed.

“That’s why I won’t spank you this evening. I’ll be sure the owner knows as well. I don’t know _what_ we are going to do if we get another visit tonight from one of Verg’s friends, because you can’t seem to behave yourself around them. We could always pull one of your toenails, after all.” 

Fear crawls up my spine when he says such a thing, however—and I know he isn’t kidding.

He grabs my collar.

“No cage for you tonight, I’m afraid. We aren’t that kind of establishment, my precious,” Ryo coos at me. “We can’t have you stroking yourself in the lobby.”

I feel tears pricking my eyes when I’m led to the lobby for another torturous evening. I can’t imagine it getting worse than last night, however. My heart hurts, my dick is throbbing, my abdomen pulls painfully, my balls are sore. And I'm so fucking _hot_.

The owner glances up at me and says, “Well, has the little one gone into heat, then?”

“I believe so,” Ryo says, “though it’s hard to tell. I gave him a double dose of the aphrodisiac we discussed—he fought me pretty hard, so I couldn’t tell how much he actually got.”  
  
“It looks like it took quite well,” the owner comments. “I’m not in heat yet, and he looks quite delectable to me.”

I’m connected to the swing contraption in the lobby, and I sit there, miserably, staring down at my feet. It isn’t long until the first knock at the door, and clients start to arrive as always. I grit my teeth and let them play with my body—and I hate it.

I say I hate it—but really— _do_ I hate it? 

Part of me really _doesn’t_ hate it, and I hate myself for _not_ hating it, and I grieve over it. I don’t know how to feel, except for relief when they finally go upstairs, and relief when the owner praises me for my valiant effort for gaining attraction for my auction.

Then—another knock.

“From whence?”

“Hisomyia.”

I recognize the voice. Oh, my gods—I _know_ that voice. My ears perk up and I look up when the door opens. To my utter surprise—it’s _Tokino_.

What is he even doing here? He's going to see me—like _this_? I’m mortified.

He enters through the door, walking in as though he belongs here—but his scent is distinctly different from what I remember. He looks the same—it’s definitely Tokino. There’s something very sweet and tempting about his scent. What _is_ that?

I can feel my pupils dilate, and his eyes dart immediately over to me in the corner.

“Konoe!”

The sound of my name—his voice, saying my name—it makes my heart break.

“What—what are you doing here?” I whisper.

“Good sir, you must have the wrong cat. This is our latest _addition_. He is not yet available, and won’t be available till tomorrow when he goes up for auction. This is _Mikage_.”

“For auction? What do you mean?” Tokino looks at the owner.

“We will be auctioning him off—his _first time_ , you see—at the end of tomorrow night,” the owner is looking at Tokino’s clothing—his lack of finery—and looking down his nose at him. “You’d be welcome to participate, of course, but many _wealthy_ people are participating. Of course, _after_ the auction, Mikage will be offering his services as well for a more affordable rate. Within a few days of his initial debut, of course, after he has _recovered_.”

“Recovered?” Tokino echoes, walking a little closer to where I am sitting. He seems to suddenly notice my current state—and that I am naked.

“Yes, after he has _recovered_ from his _debut_.”

I watch as Tokino’s fur bristles on his ears and tail. “Do you mean, after he has recovered from being  _raped_?”

“Good sir,” the owner says. “I don’t know where you heard about our establishment, but if you aren’t _interested_ in our services, I will have you _removed_.”

“Ah—I’m sorry. I apologize.” Tokino is speaking with his teeth clenched. Turning back to me, he whispers to me softly. “Kon—Mikage,” Tokino corrects himself.

“Feel free to _examine_ the _merchandise_ , if you like. From whence?”

The owner has a haughty tone in his voice and returns to answer the door—another client is knocking.

“Konoe,” I hear it whispered in my ear. “What have they done to you? My gods. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.” 

He is suddenly towering over me—has he always been this tall? I don’t want him standing so close to me—I don’t want him to see me like this. He is a friend—and _just_ a friend—but why does he smell so good? Why does he smell so _attractive_?

I can feel my body trembling as he gets closer to me—my entire body feels almost sick—almost nauseated with desire. I don’t know what this feeling is—is it just because he is familiar to me? I don’t understand. I want to touch him—but I am restrained. I can’t move anything—except my tail. My _cursed_ , black tail. It’s crooked. But I reach it out, looping it around Tokino’s tail—and I entangle it with Tokino’s. I don’t dare look up at his face. I’m afraid of what he will say. What does he think of me? What could he _possibly_ think of me—seeing me like _this_? In this state—smelling like this? Looking like this? He couldn’t _possibly_ still think of me as a friend—not after seeing me like _this._

Tears drip from my eyes onto my lap—falling onto my bare skin—and I try not to sob. I feel Tokino’s nose, pushing tenderly against my shoulder—and I feel a soft, gentle purr buzzing in my ear. It’s a gesture of friendship he’s exchanged with me since we were kids.

 _Nothing has changed_. I realize nothing has changed for him.

“You smell so good,” I whisper, my voice full of tears. “I’ve never noticed how good you smell before.”

“I’ve missed you—I’ve been so worried—and I should have been _more_ worried. What have they _done_ to you?”

Tokino touches my hands—brushing the stripes on my restrained palms softly—then kneels down and touches the soles of my feet. He pulls his claws through the fur of my tail, and I wince.

“They even got your tail? Konoe. I’m so sorry.”

“Get up—” I say desperately. “Don’t kneel— _don’t kneel_ in front of me!”

“Why? What’s the matter?”  
  
“Tokino!” I say, exasperated. “Tokino. Don’t you know? I’m—I’m a— _whore_ here.” I look away. “You cannot be kneeling in front of a _whore_. I will be sold for _money_ tomorrow. My body will be sold for _money_. I have been made to do unspeakable things already. People come and touch me in—unspeakable ways. You shouldn’t _touch_ me. You will be— _contaminated_.” I cast him a desperate look.

“Perhaps. But who do you think _put_ you in this position? How do you think you _got_ here? Whose _fault_ is it?” He puts both his hands on my face. “I am so sorry. This life is _not_ for you. We didn’t know what else to do. Dad came back, and they wouldn’t _let_ us purchase you. We said we made a mistake, but they insisted on keeping you.”

I can’t stop my tears.

“I cannot sleep at night, knowing I had a hand in this. They told him they thought you’d make them more money than the most unusual female they had. I feel absolutely _sick_ about it! I feel like I sold my best friend!” His voice breaks into a sob. 

I try to reach out to him with my restrained hands, and I can’t.

“Konoe,” Tokino says, taking my hand. “What—what _happened_?”

He is looking at the bandage on my left hand. And then he looks more carefully at my face.

“Your face—your mouth is swollen. Let me see—what have they _done_ to you? Konoe!”

I clamp my mouth closed and try to pull my hand away, and when he brushes against my hand, I scream in pain.

“They _didn’t_ —they didn’t pull out your claw, did they?!”

I just look at him. I shake my head no. He grabs my face, and presses his hands on my jaw, making me open my mouth.

“Sir—I have to ask you—please, no man-handling the kitten, please.”

“He won’t open his mouth for me, though,” Tokino says.

“Mikage, please open your mouth, if the good sir would like to look. You know what will happen if you refuse,” the owner says.

I give Tokino a desperate look, and the owner approaches me with the paddle in hand. Tokino looks horrified. I open my mouth immediately.

“You _defanged_ him? You defanged a _kitten_? Why?!”

“He bit a client. That is our policy. We can’t have our whores biting clients. If you have a problem, you should go somewhere else, but I don’t think you’d appreciate him biting _you_ , either.”

I have noticed there is a _really_ heavy air in the lobby—a strangely _heavy_ air. It’s making me _very_ uncomfortable. Tokino gets up with a huff.

“I can’t help you yet, Konoe, but I will be able to _soon_. Seeing this—ugh—I’m just so upset and angry—and I am so, so sorry. This isn’t what we wanted. Please, forgive my father, if you can. I cannot. I will _never_ forgive him!”

He leans down and kisses my ears—my cursed, black ears—and then walks out.

The heaviness in the lobby has not gone away, and I’m afraid to look up. I know what it means. There’s a _devil_ in here. He must have come in while Tokino was here. He’s been watching us, watching _me_.

A dark cloud approaches me—heavier than the others who have visited me before— _much_ heavier, much darker, a weight on my very soul. I’m scared to look up. If I don’t look up, maybe he will just go away. If I don’t look up, maybe he won’t speak to me. Maybe he won’t be there. Maybe if I—

“You know that _isn’t_ how this works, child.”

The surprisingly kind voice almost melts in my ears. It tingles across my burning flesh when I hear it, in fact.

“You are suffering, in pain.”

A cool hand reaches to my ears, stroking them—and not just cool, but _cold_ , like an ice pack, soothing the excessive heat on my body. It feels _so_ good. I don’t know why I am so hot. I am burning up. But that touch—it feels _so good_. I am tempted, more tempted than I was with any of the other three devils. And I'm tired of all of this. I'm just plain tired. I look up toward the voice. It’s the voice that belongs to the blue snake. 

Before me stands another devil. He is dressed from head to toe in black, in severe somber clothing, covered in capes, buckles, and leather. He has blue hair, long black horns, and pointed ears. The pale skin of his face is the only flesh exposed. His golden eyes seem to glow with concern for my well-being.

His face is attractive and kind—he looks young—and surprisingly feline, much more cat-like than the other devils—although he has those strange ears on either side of his head.

“You are suffering from an overdose, it seems,” the blue devil says kindly. “My name is Kaltz.”

Even his name sounds cold—like his hands. I tip my head toward him a little more. I… I think I want his help.

“Can you… help me?” I whisper.

Kaltz smiles sadly. “You will have to choose,” he answers. “But I may be able to help you a little today.” He brushes the hair from my forehead.

“Good sir,” the owner interrupts, “I’ll assume you’re a friend of Verg’s?”

“A colleague,” Kaltz answers, somewhat cryptically. 

“I can tell by your excellent costume for the season. Are you also interested in bidding on our newest merchandise tomorrow?”

“Is that when the auction will be taking place?” Kaltz asks.

“It is.”  
  
“At this location?”

“In the auditorium attached to our house.”  
  
“I see. I will be in attendance.”

“Feel free to examine him, though please take care. He was a little unpredictable with your colleagues.”

“That is because my colleagues are brutes,” Kaltz mutters under his breath. He continues caressing my chin and forehead. I feel a sudden cool sensation on my forehead, and my fever seems to cool substantially.

“Open your mouth,” Kaltz says.

I obey, somewhat skeptically, hesitantly—who in their right mind would open their mouth for a devil? But I do.

He puts his finger inside my mouth and points right to where my fang was removed. I feel something cold there—and then—I feel ice—there’s a small piece of ice covering the socket, soothing the pain.

“I’m sorry for the brutality of my colleagues,” Kaltz says, stroking the fur on my ears. “It was not necessary. You’re not here because you _want_ to be, are you? I saw your interaction with your friend. He had to leave you here. Most likely, he won’t be able to save you from your fate tomorrow.”

I look up at the blue devil, and I am heartbroken. Grief flows into my heart when I think of Tokino.

“You have lost your home, all that you know, have been thrown into a world of which you know nothing and for which you are not at all suited.” Another caress to my cheek.

“You have been declawed, defanged, and beaten brutally and repeatedly until you can no longer walk or fight for yourself,” he continues. I hadn’t noticed how helpless I really was until he pointed it out.

“Tomorrow, you will be thrown into a whole new world, where your innocence will truly be stolen from you—while you have seen examples of this, I don’t think you truly yet understand what this means. I grieve for you. I grieve for the loss of your innocence.”

Tears are rolling down my face when I look up at the devil stroking me. 

“You are a beautiful creature,” Kaltz whispers to me. “I hate to see you lose this innocent beauty to someone who cares naught for it.” A small cold kiss is planted on the tip of my ear, and it sends a shiver down my back. It feels nice—the chill feels good—the cold feels good.

“Would you,” I whisper through my tears, “Could you save me from this? Can you get me out of here?”

I’m shocked at myself. I’m asking a _devil_ for help. Do I really mean this? Am I really asking _him_ for help?

Kaltz smiles.

“I wish I could. But you will have to choose between us at that time. I cannot save you from tomorrow, I’m afraid.”

“Please!” It comes out loud and desperate. “Please! Won’t you take me with you? I will do anything!”

“Hush, child. For such is not the way of things,” Kaltz puts his finger to my lips. “And this is not the way forward for you. I have seen your path, and this is not it. As much as I might enjoy your company. For now, let me ease some of your sufferings.”

“Mikage!” The owner is yelling at me again. “Are you bothering our guest?”

“He most certainly is not,” Kaltz assures the owner. “He is providing me the utmost entertainment. Have no fear.”

Again, I feel an intense cold sensation from his hands—but this time, it fills my entire body—not just the surface of my skin. It doesn’t cool my desire so much, but it soothes much of my aches and pains, and it soothes my fever.

“I can’t do much more, for this is a natural process. You’re in heat, after all, Konoe,” Kaltz smiles at me, almost sadly. “Now sleep. You will need all the rest you can get for tomorrow’s trials. Sweet dreams, my child.”

He presses his hand to my forehead, and to my surprise, I pass out, sleeping soundly for the rest of the evening. Neither the owner nor Ryo can wake me, try as they might—and I sleep till the following day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you don't like reading about poor Konoe getting beaten:
> 
> He gets in big trouble by Ryo for bothering the ladies of the house during the night for screaming and crying in the night for help and is beaten severely before his final night's performance. Also, he's still pretty aroused from the last dose of aphrodisiac, and he's in heat (and doesn't realize it).
> 
> So, back to the lobby, more visitors--including two special ones.
> 
> First: Tokino. Holy shit. Who also happens to be in heat, surprise, surprise. So he smells really, really good to Konoe. Never noticed how great his friend smells. Tokino is really upset to see Konoe like this, however, that he's lost a fang and a claw, treated so poorly, etc. etc. But he can't do anything for him now, swears he will come back, and that he will never forgive his father because the boys in Lamento just have shitty parents. And authors, apparently.
> 
> Second, who should come and watch this exchange, but the last devil, Kaltz! He is actually quite kind to Konoe and helps soothe some of the pain from his overdose on aphrodisiac, as well as give him some ice for his mouth (to help his toothache, thanks to Froud). Konoe begs him to take him out of this place, but Kaltz said he can't do that. He will have to choose tomorrow. He does offer him a parting gift, and that is putting him to sleep for the rest of the night. 
> 
> That's where this chapter ends, y'all.
> 
> Like WINTER.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Konoe (Mikage) is prepped for the auction.
> 
> Trigger warning: more non-con touching and groping, and a non-con enema.

Tonight, I will be auctioned off.

My evening prep routine is quite a bit different from normal. I’m bathed, groomed, my claws are checked. My bandage is changed for something less obvious—although it doesn’t help protect my pinky from damage. Also, I’m treated to a new cleansing routine from which I have been previously spared.

While I haven’t specifically said that I have been fed, since my arrival I have been given one meal per day, usually after the evening’s activities. It’s surprisingly well-balanced, including fresh fruits and vegetables, bread, cheese or nuts and once, meat. This meal was skipped last night, though I was given water. (This is normal since Ribika don’t have to eat every day—and this is actually a _lot_ more than I was eating at home in Karou. This brothel really must be doing well to be able to offer meals like this.)

Regarding the new cleansing routine, it happens before all the bathing and grooming. I’m subjected to a rather embarrassing “internal cleansing,” as Ryo delicately calls it. Already nervous that he’s followed me into the bathroom, he explains that my bowels need to be completely empty for this evening to be a success. Why? I wonder—and then I stop my thoughts right there. I understand why, and I don’t want to think about it.

He has me lower myself to the “presenting” position, and he feeds—to my utter surprise and horror—a rather large amount of warm fluid directly into my rectum via a flexible tube or bottle of some sort. The act of him feeding a tube inside me is _much_ more intrusive than inserting the aphrodisiac in there with his finger—and I’m left feeling full enough to burst.

Though it’s _more_ than uncomfortable he insists that I hold it for as long as I can. I almost shit myself when I am finally permitted to use the toilet. The humiliation of this procedure is another story altogether. I don’t want to even talk about the look I saw on Ryo’s face during the entire affair.

After we finish, he drags me to the showers to scrub me down till my skin is almost raw, and then has me soak in the bath, where the water is slightly scented—sort of minty on my skin, making my hot skin tingle—doing as thorough a job scrubbing my skin, nails, and hair as he did my first day.

Did I mention I’m still suffering from the same flu-like symptoms I was yesterday? I feel sticky and sweaty, my body is aching, and my mind is not functioning properly. All I can think about is… well, being _touched_. It’s awfully strange. And that actually makes the grooming process go a little more easily, makes it actually kind of pleasant. I don’t mind it so much, well, except for that bowel cleansing thing. I’m docile and cooperative.

Just out of the tub, he has me “present myself” again, and he inserts another one of those aphrodisiacs. Without further ado, he inserts his finger up my ass—and this time, it’s a _very_ different sensation. I’m a little surprised, actually—it kind of feels good when he puts his hands on me like that, but I manage to keep my voice quiet. It’s rather shocking. The aphrodisiac doesn’t take long to work, either, especially not in my current state—I’m must be in heat, and I start to realize what that actually means—and I’m a complete mess when he drags me back to my feet by my collar.

“Now, we will prep you for auction, and the girls will polish you up.”

Instead of being brought back to my tiny room, I’m dragged into the ladies’ prep room. This room is very lush with lots of dressers with vanity mirrors, good lighting, lots of beautiful clothing displayed on racks, many bottles of makeup and perfume and powder, and glittering jewelry. I’m made to kneel on a cushion while several females fuss over me. My hair is combed, brushed, trimmed, and styled. Another young woman pats lotion on my face—covering various imperfections and adding some kind of product to my eyes and eyelashes. Another two young women work a cream into my skin. I notice the cream has a shimmer to it—almost a gold glitter—so my skin seems to sparkle under the low light.

I want to know if I will be given any clothing—the thought of being auctioned off naked is a bit much, even after this harrowing week—and an outfit is chosen for me. It’s the first time I’ve had clothing on my body in a while, and it feels weird, even though it isn’t very substantial. The outfit consists of a pair silk underwear—tight-fitting, low-rise boxer briefs in bright red, which ride low enough to expose the soft fur below my navel and but also cover my legs to just above mid-thigh—and a silk robe, light and flowing, that ties with a black sash. The robe has a subtle print woven into the fabric in various shades of gold, red and hints of black. I’m given a pair of geta for my feet which are slightly taller than I’m used to, so I wobble a little when I walk. 

I’m just so relieved to have clothes again. It feels like such a privilege, I hardly know what to do with myself. I feel like crying, actually. Plus I'm annoyed that having clothing feels like a privilege, and I don't know what to do with those feelings.

I’m also given a set of wide gold bracelets with hooks on them and a pair of matching anklets as well—I’m afraid they _might_ be for restraints. The anklets and bracelets feel cold against my skin. My plain collar is switched out for a fancy gold collar, padded with leather on the inside.

“You look stunning—from adorable to absolutely sexy!”

“Just gorgeous, and you smell so nice!”

“I have asked all my _best_ customers bidding on you for me!”

“You really do clean up well!” 

Their soft voices and touches are comforting, surrounding me like a cocoon, and it pains me to have to leave the serenity of the room. Surprisingly, I don’t think of anything but comfort when they touch me, even in my current state of arousal, but I don’t realize this till after I leave. Ryo drags me off when he deems me satisfactory, bringing me back to the dreaded tiny room.

“Personally, I think you will sell for a little more if you aren’t _quite_ so pristine,” Ryo says casually, as he closes the door behind him. “And I’d like to see if you can obey _without_ the restraints today, just in case your buyer is interested in pain play.”

Considering his words a moment, resting his hand on his chin, Ryo clarifies his statement. “I want you to practice submission. Your job is to please your client. If you don’t please your client, he will punish you _and_ the house will punish you. Your first client is aware you have no sexual experience to speak of, and that is partly what makes you valuable. But if you can please high maintenance clients, those who want to hear you beg or cry, for example, you will go a long way.”

Begging and crying? What on earth is going to be expected of me this evening? A chill goes through my body at his words.

“Plus, we need to show them that you have at least _started_ some training. _I_ need to know that we can leave you with a client without risking his well-being. Do you understand?” 

“Yes, sir.” I try to remain calm, but I’m truly terrified now—of the auction, of my experience after the auction, and of Ryo’s plans.

“This will be a brief session since we don’t want to ruin your new look. Try not to smudge your makeup or muss your hair, and keep still—without restraints.”

He examines me carefully and says, “Suppose I am your first client and obey me as such. First, open your robe, slowly and sensually. It’s possible your client will do it for you, but just in case, I want to be sure you can do it yourself. Make sure not to remove it too quickly.”

I am currently on my knees, and I question him with my eyes, _do you want me here?_ _Or shall I stand?_

“Very good, Mikage!” He strokes my ears, and the touch feels good to me, which is irritating. I don’t _want_ his touch to feel good! “Asking with your eyes is very demure and submissive. _Perfect_ for you. Go ahead and stand while you disrobe.”

I stand, keeping my face lowered to the floor, but my eyes are his feet, but I don’t do anything further.

“Untie your robe and open it, slowly, as though you are hesitant to remove it.”

That is easy to do since I _am_ actually hesitant.

“Let it slip off your shoulders, while you turn around.”

Again, I obey. My heart is racing because I cannot imagine _actually_ doing this for a client. I may be doing this in an hour? Less than an hour? Gods, the panic is rising.

“Perfect. Now—stretch out your hands to me, palms up.”

I continue to obey until the cane flicks down on my palms. I immediately pull away. Who wouldn’t, if they knew they were about to be beaten? But he stops me, saying, “I’ll start anew each time you pull your hands away. So keep them lifted for me, just like that, until I allow you to move.”

Tears start falling after the fifth blow, and he says, “Good boy, Mikage. You may lower your hands. Now get on your knees and present yourself.”

Wearing only my underwear, he slaps the soles of my feet six times before tears start flowing. It’s much easier to keep my feet in place since when I’m kneeling on top of them, I can’t really pull them away. The blows with the cane are still painful—but he soon stops. I worry I may not be able to walk very well in those tall shoes, however. 

“Now,” He continues. “Some owners will want to discipline your tail, but that can’t be seen from the audience on the stage. Since you have been a good boy, I will skip that tonight,” I feel his hand stroking my ass roughly, playing with the waistband of my underwear.

I’m quite relieved and I feel thankful. I’m actually _thankful_ he is giving me this small reprieve. Then I get _angry_ —because this is hardly a gift. I don’t deserve any of this! I don't deserve to be caned at all!

“However, I’m sure the audience _will_ appreciate a cherry-red bottom. And instead of having me do all the work, I’m going to have you pull down your underwear yourself. Expose yourself to me.”

This humiliation is really hard to bear—made much worse because I know what he plans to do to me once I obey his command. To my surprise, however, he drops the cane on the ground beside my body. Is he going to use a strap on me? I’m stunned and a little frightened.

I obey the command just the same, broken, hopeless, grieving for my lost innocence, whatever that means, and I figure that if I delay my punishment will only get worse. I pull my underwear down, struggling to get them down past my hips and butt. They are quite tight. 

“Well done. You are so lovely when you’re submissive, Mikage.” I receive a soft caress to my ears.

When the first few blows come down on my naked ass, I try to remain calm and quiet, taking what he gives, though it’s with his hand and not a cane. At first, I’m relieved—the cane is much worse—but he can spank me for a longer period of time with his hand.

Plus, he is spanking me hard enough to jolt my body forward, and tears start to fall. But when his hand connects with my sit spot, it tingles—and I find myself even more aroused. It’s unnerving.

I’m not exactly crying, either—while it hurts, the pain and pleasure are getting confused in my brain—again—and I’m not sure what to do about it. It isn’t like the belting he gave me, however, since I’m not nearly _that_ aroused. Froud brought me to the edge so many times I thought I might pass out. This time, I’m not nearly that close. But is that the point of this hand-spanking? To redden my skin and arouse me? If so, it’s certainly doing the job.

The sounds coming out of my mouth are more grunts and sighs, rather than screams.

I hear Ryo encouraging me, telling me what a good boy I’ve been—just like he is training an animal, and I feel utterly _disgusting_. And worse, every time he tells me what a good boy I am, I get a little harder, a little more aroused, like I am craving his praise. And now, I notice my back arching, trying to get him to aim his blows right on my sit spot instead of on the backs of my thighs—since my thighs hurt, and my sit spot feels _good_.

I have to admit—I like it.

I actually _like_ being spanked. I close my eyes, and I am _enjoying_ this. I might be able to come from this spanking if it went on long enough—but I know he isn’t going to let me this time. I feel so dirty—and I _disgust_ myself. Gods, maybe I _do_ belong here! Maybe this is exactly what I _deserve_.

My tail is yanked slightly at the base—just like Verg did when he paddled me—and even _that_ feels good—just before I’m spanked squarely on my sit spot again, and a poorly stifled gasp escapes my lips.

“It feels good, doesn’t it, Mikage?” Ryo asks.

Another smack—painful—to my thighs.

“Doesn’t it?”

“Uh—yes, sir,” I admit quietly.

“That really does make you quite the unusual whore, you know? Most whores are in it for the pleasure or the money. You are in it for the _pain_. Do you love pain?”

Smack—when I don’t answer.

“Ah— _no_ , sir,” I insist.

“Then why are you so excited right now?”

Smack.

I can’t explain it. It doesn’t occur to me that my body has been manipulated to feel like this. I’m at the peak of my heat, I’ve been given aphrodisiacs on top of that, and the spanking has made all the blood rush to my lower half.

“I don’t know, sir.”

“Isn’t it because you love pain?”

 Smack.

“Only if it pleases you, sir.” I can’t believe that it took me so long to come up with that answer. I _know_ it will work.

And it does. The spanking finally stops, and I feel Ryo caressing my now burning ass. I don’t know if I’m relieved or angry that he’s stopped spanking me.

“ _That_ is what your client wants to hear from you, little one,” Ryo says proudly. “That was a _perfect_ reply. Remember that one for your repertoire, and keep _this_ expression on your face. You are ready. Let’s fix your clothes, and get you out there now. Let me show you how you look, too, for you are much changed from when you arrived.”

I can hardly move—but I manage to pull my underwear over my blazing thighs and ass—it feels cool against my skin, but it hurts so much. And I tie my robe—which Ryo quickly unties and reties again, after draping it a little lower on my back and shoulders. After the beating to my feet, it’s very hard to walk in the shoes, but I manage. I’m a few inches taller and have to take smaller steps, which surprisingly Ryo accommodates.

Tonight, we walk through the hall in another direction, heading toward the auditorium, and the other working cats admire me as I pass. I keep my eyes lowered, however. I am not comfortable in this outfit—although it is much better than being naked. I hope this means I will be permitted clothing from now on.

“So cute!”

“He’s cleaned up so well from the ruffian he was when he first came!”

“I think he might be compatible with me—he smells delicious!”

“One of my clients is going to be bidding on him for a threesome tonight—I just can’t wait.”

“Do your best, Mikage!”

“You look beautiful!" 

When Ryo suddenly stops, I follow suit, and my chin is suddenly lifted. I see a mirror, and there is Ryo, standing next to a cat I do not recognize in the slightest. Is that really _me_? Gods—I _have_ changed. My breath stops. My heart stops. The cat in the mirror—he has black ears and a black tail, with fur so lush and full that it almost looks long. His hair has been styled away from his face, pinned back to display an innocent, youthful glow, large golden eyes framed by long black eyelashes, and glossy full, pouting lips. His outfit—the robe—it’s elegant and shimmering—the best colors for this cat—bringing out the glossiness of his fur, his hair, and particularly his eyes. The way it’s draped over his shoulders exposes his nape and his collarbones—it’s open quite far down his chest as well, enough to expose a hint of his bellybutton and a tempting fluff of blonde fur below his navel, just above the tie.

He is willowy, slim, and utterly sexy. The flush on his chest and cheeks show his desperation. Also—the robe has short sleeves, so the strange markings on his arms are clearly visible, making him look like a magical creature. When he walks, the markings on his legs are also seen. Finally, the anklets, bracelets, and collar add to his wildness: he is a wild beast, captured—waiting to be trained or tamed. Even the bandage on his left hand adds to the undomesticated look.

Who is this cat in the mirror? What the hell has happened to me? If I saw myself on the street, I would consider me stunning.

“You look beautiful, Mikage,” Ryo leans down to whisper in my ear. I see him do this in the mirror, but I still jump, not realizing that is my own image in there. I’m so shocked at my appearance. “I’m sure you will sell for a record amount.”

He continues walking me on the chain connected to my collar toward a set of double doors at the end of the hall, and I can hear noise on the other side.

“Now, we may display you on the stage, and we expect your obedience. If you resist us in any way, we will punish you—whip you—publicly. It will be embarrassing for you as well as painful. Plus, it will give your new owner ideas as to what he might do with you for the entirety of the evening. So it would be in your best interest to submit to whatever the owner would like to do with you. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” I reply miserably.

“You are the only merchandise up for auction tonight, so this shouldn’t take long. I’ll put you out on display now. Keep in mind, your body is _not_ your own, so you are not to touch yourself.”

“Yes, sir,” my response is automatic.

The doors to the auditorium open, and there are cats mulling around—lots of cats—more than I have ever seen in a single room. Probably—a hundred of them? More than lived in my entire village! They can’t _all_ want to bid, can they?

Some have females on their arms, so they have appeared as a couple to bid. And to my horror, I see the four devils milling around in the back of the room. I immediately drop my eyes. That would be the worst case scenario, wouldn’t it?

But—didn’t the blue devil say he could get me out of this? Could I choose him? Could he get me out of this? What would that mean—would he eat me? I don’t understand. Isn’t that what devils do to cats? They consume their souls, don’t they?

I am led to my cage and pushed inside, where I cower obediently. Many cats line up to take another look—and I hear many admiring me—how lovely I am, how unusual my markings are, and how beautiful my fur and my tail are. I try to keep my tail close to me, but it slips outside the cage and is stroked again and again. 

I just want this night to come to an end. I close my eyes, listening to the sounds. It starts to sound like a river of voices—an _ocean_ of voices—all blending together.

And then I smell something familiar—delicious and tempting—warm and powerful. It smells like comfort itself. It makes my mouth water and my ears perk up. I am compelled to open my eyes to see if it’s what I think it is.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More bathing, grooming, nail clipping (no pulling, however), and a lovely experience with an enema, which Ryo really seems to enjoy. And more aphrodisiacs are given to the poor kitty, even though he is already started his heat. He is brought to the girls' chamber to be prepped for the auction. They dress him, cut and style his hair, put nice-smelling lotion on him, and make him all shiny and pretty.
> 
> He also gets a nice pair of red undies and gold robe with a black sash and tall sandals to wear for the auction. He's relieved he isn't naked.
> 
> Ryo give him advice on the way out--make sure to beg and cry and use your voice, you'll be punished if you don't please the client--by both the client and the house--and then he gives Mikage is daily softening treatment--a slightly modified version to keep him from drawing his claws and keep him compliant.
> 
> Before being led to the floor, Ryo shows him his reflection, which sends Konoe's head spinning. He doesn't recognize himself at all.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: non-con touching, bodily exposure. It's an auction, people.

I know I’m right.

I’m not sure if it’s because of the heat, the aphrodisiac coursing through my body or my extremely high level of stress, but I can smell the warm, powerful scent of that silver cat—and he has just entered the auditorium. 

I don’t know exactly how I can detect his scent among hundreds of others, but my eyes fly open and I jerk upright in my cage, pulling myself into a crouch—perhaps not the most decent pose considering my outfit. Plus it’s hard to stand while I’m wearing these shoes since the floor of the cage is full of bars.

But I can’t seem to lay eyes on him. I _know_ he’s in here, though—I recognize the scent—and not only that, my body has reacted to it in a really unexpected way. I’m—well—even more aroused and desperate than I was, to begin with.

I _want_ that silver cat.

I want him to touch me, more than I can ever remember wanting anything—and the dream I had floods my mind—he is kissing and biting my neck possessively. A shiver runs through my body, ruffling through my fur. I want his attention, and I want it now. Why else would he be here?

Except—he was here earlier this week, asking for Mana, and barely even _looked_ at me. Well, he _did_ look at me, even _touched_ me—I bring my hands up to my ears in a dreamy way, remembering how it felt when he stroked them. He interfered with the owner and physically stopped him from beating me.

My cage is surrounded by cats, and Ryo is approaching. I want to see the silver cat—I _have_ to see him. Is he here for Mana? The thought that he is here for her—really—well, it makes me feel jealous and torn up inside, but it does nothing to quell my desire.

When Ryo opens my cage, he notices something is different.

“Ah, Mikage, is that medicine working for you? You look... rather hot and bothered.”

I’m not about to tell him, so I keep silent and lower my eyes demurely, giving my head a slight nod.

“I’ve never seen so many cats gathering for an auction before—you’d think we were letting you off the property or something! Come along now.”

He pulls me by the collar and I follow obediently, craning my neck, trying to look around, following that scent—I can still detect it. It’s making my heart flutter. 

And then I see where I am being led. It’s a platform, raised in the center of the room, a stage. Oh gods, is that—is that for me to stand on? Please—no. It occurs to me what is about to happen, and a rush of panic flows through my body—I feel it on the surface of my skin, shivering across my body like goosebumps.

Although... perhaps from up there, I will be able to find my silver cat—I know he is here.

Ryo deliberately leads me past the devils milling around lazily in the back of the room. They are not at all subtle, and they stand out obviously, though many are in costume. I can tell by looking at them that theirs are _not_ costumes. They are _real_ devils. I do not understand why I am the only one who can detect this, however, and I immediately shy away from them, my pulse racing and my anxiety increasing. 

Giving my chain a sharp tug, which pulls me forward and makes me stumble but not quite fall, Ryo throws a sharp look my way. I don’t keep my eyes lowered around these creatures. I keep my eyes open—I am _terrified_ of these four.

Three stand together, and the blue one—Kaltz—stands slightly apart, but they _all_ take in my new appearance.

“Will you look at that? Nekochan cleans up so well,” Froud’s voice coos, reaching out his hand to stroke my ears. Ryo pulls me closer, shortening the chain so I have to obey. He casts another threatening glance my way as if to remind me of the public whipping I was promised if I should cause a scene. I feel Froud’s gloved claws on my ears and am instantly reminded of the last time he touched me—after he pulled my fang. I squeeze my eyes closed fearfully.

“You don’t have to be so afraid, Nekochan. We are here to make your first night a _joyful_ one, after all,” his voice sounds close to my ears, light and cheerful. I shudder.

“Frankly, I thought you were at your best when I saw you in that cage, naked and shivering,” Verg states, his hands on his hips. “But apparently, even dressed you’re quite fetching.” 

“This is _not_ the same kitten we knew in Karou,” the low rumbling voice belongs to Razel. For some reason, his calm frightens me even more than the other two. Froud may have pulled a tooth, and Razel my nail—both hurt unbelievably—

Before I can finish the thought, Razel takes my left hand in his—so warm!—and I startle, inhaling sharply.

“Control yourself, Mikage,” Ryo warns.

All the fur on my body is raised, and I feel a threat. My eyes are open wide, and I watch Razel lift my left hand to his mouth and plant a tender, gentle kiss on the back of my hand. I hold my breath, waiting for him to squeeze it. My pinky finger—the one missing its claw—is wrapped closely in his warm hand. I can’t breathe for the fear of the pain he is about to cause.

“How is your injury?” Razel whispers against the back of my hand. “Is it healing? If you were to choose me, I could heal it for you.

I don’t know what to say. When his blue eyes meet mine, I see a fire—a true flame—burning behind them. Who _is_ this person? What the hell does he want with me? Choose him? What choice is he even talking about?

He gently strokes the marking on my left wrist. “Keep it in mind,” he suggests, before releasing my hand. “You are beautiful, wrapped in silk like this.”

“Oy, you’ve scared him again,” Verg says, irritated. “You guys don’t understand that cats are skittish creatures. They frighten easily, and if you cause them pain, they won’t come to you anymore. That is,” he looks at me and grasps my tail suddenly, “unless it’s the right _kind_ of pain, the kind they can’t stop thinking, dreaming, and fantasizing about. Am I right, Chibi?”

I try to pull my tail out of Verg’s grasp, and I hear a sigh.

“Too much, as usual, Verg,” I look up, and it’s Kaltz, speaking in a soft voice, though he sounds irritated. To my surprise, Verg shuts his mouth and looks at Kaltz. Is there—do I detect _desire_ in his gaze? Kaltz is quite attractive, but for Verg’s attention to be pulled away so easily surprises me.

“You look beautiful, Konoe,” Kaltz says, adding my real name in a low voice, and offering a small smile. “How is your tooth?”

“It’s much better than it was, thank you,” I reply, and the other three devils are shocked he got a response.

“What the fuck?” Verg grumbles. “He talks to _you_? What the hell did you do to him?”

“It’s more like what I _didn’t_ do to him,” Kaltz returns sharply. “Cats hate having their tails pulled, so release his.”

“Chibi didn’t really seem to mind it that much earlier,” Verg says. “It’s convenient—kind of like a handle.” He grins at me, showing me his fangs. I don’t want to think about it.

“Please, enjoy your evening, and best of luck to you gentlemen. Be sure to sample some of our wine. We have a wonderful selection this evening,” Ryo offers politely.

As I’m led away from the group by my collar, another wonderful scent graces my nose. I didn’t smell it from my cage, but I recognize it as the orange and black striped cat’s scent, who was asked to leave for causing a scene. However, what surprises me, even more, is the cat sitting next to the giant tiger. It’s Tokino.

He is dressed in fine clothes—actually, it looks like a costume of sorts, and it includes a partial face mask, but I recognize his orange puff of hair and the shape of his upper body and arms. Is he here with the tiger? As I ponder the question, the giant tiger leans down and whispers to him. How do they know each other? I mean, perhaps Tokino sought help? I can only see the backs of their heads since I am being led toward the stage.

I’m ashamed to let Tokino see me like this, but I can’t help him being here. Perhaps—he plans to bid on me? Make my first time more pleasant? Is that what this is about? He can’t be here—not with those devils.

When I am paraded past his row, both cats lift their faces in surprise.

“Is this really the child I saw earlier?” I hear the large cat whispering. “I mean—he has the same coloring and markings, but he looks so...”

“Mature?” Tokino asks.

“I was actually going to say ‘ripe for the picking.’ Gods, their timing was perfect. Do you think he could possibly...” and then their conversation fades from my ears.

I try to tip my ears to listen, but I can’t hear. I mouth the word, “Tokino” to him, and he smiles. 

I tug my chain for a moment, realizing I’m taking a great risk in raising Ryo’s ire. But Tokino needs to get out of here. He should not be here.

Ryo isn’t pleased, but he turns toward me.

“Please,” I beg. “I know I have no right to ask, but we just passed a merchant friend of mine, who may try to bid on me. There’s no way I can ask him to waste his money. Please, sir. I will do anything you ask for just a moment with him.”

Ryo considers me carefully, and I drop to my knees demurely, keeping my face lowered. 

“He is the son of the merchant who sold me to you, and they saved me from my village. _Please_.”

There is a long pause, and Ryo sighs.

“I won’t release your collar, and you won’t be alone. But you have two minutes. Where is he?”

Jumping to my feet, I respond, “He is sitting in the row next to the large orange tiger.”

Ryo lets me back up a few steps, and I turn my head and hiss, “Tokino!”

“Konoe!” The sound of his voice nearly makes me cry, but I do my best to keep a straight face. I have to tell him what I can, as much as I can, and quickly, and in a quiet voice, words tumble from my mouth.

“Please, you must listen to me. Those nightmares I was having—remember before I left Karou? They were _not_ nightmares. They are real. Those snakes are real, and they—they are _devils_ —and they are _here_ and after me right now. Please, you _must_ leave. I know you mean to help me and seeing you here—“

My voice breaks and I can’t stifle a sob. 

He is standing now and says, “But we want to get you out of here!”

I sigh, trying to catch my breath.

“I know you are trying to help, but I can’t get you involved. They _cursed_ me. So please, just listen to me—just—please leave.” I try to keep my voice low enough so Ryo won’t hear, but I suppose if he did hear, he’d think me crazy. Looking at Tokino’s face, he seems to be giving me a similar look.

“Little one,” the tiger speaks quietly from next to Tokino, startling me. “You are too young to be auctioned off like this, to be sold and used in this way.” He touches my arm, and I feel a strange sizzling heat under his finger against my skin.

I jump a little. What _was_ that?

“This is your first heat, isn’t it?” He asks gently. “Let us help you get out of here.” His voice sounds so kind and it rumbles so nicely in my ears—I just _love_ it! It makes my fur ruffle up all over my body. But I can’t let my friend get hurt.

“Please,” I beg, “protect my friend.”

“Honey,” the tiger starts again, but my leash is pulled, indicating our conversation is finished.

“Thank you for coming,” I say as I am dragged down the aisle toward the stage.

There is one chair on the platform, but nothing for me to sit in, so I am guided to the center of the platform.

A cheer goes up, and I see the owner. He climbs onto the stage and takes a seat. My ears start to feel a little strange like I’m hearing everything through a metal tube or a tin can. My breathing and heart rate pick up even more, and I feel nauseated.

But I do remember to scan the audience carefully, looking for the silver cat. The lighting is different here, however—it seems to be pointed at the platform, which makes it very difficult to see the audience. I still try. 

The owner is talking, but I am not listening to his words. I think he is talking about me, building up the audience’s expectations, telling lies about where I am from, and then before I know it, the bidding starts.

“Oy, pay attention,” Ryo hisses.

What? I look up at him. I wasn't listening. Was I asked to do something?

“Take off your robe.”

What? No—he can’t be asking me to do this. _Now_? Here? In front of all these people?

“Do it,” Ryo hisses again. I see him jerk his chin toward the owner’s chair, and hanging from his waist is a strap. I shudder. Tears of shame burn my eyes, and I slowly untie the obi at my waist, looking down at my feet. Will I have to strip completely? Taking off my clothes for one person is humiliating enough, but stripping for a group of people is completely different.

I feel like I might be sick.

I let the tie drop to the ground and I turn toward Ryo again, a desperate, pleading look in my eyes. I don’t want to do this.

“If I have to ask you again—”

While facing Ryo, I slip my arms out of the sleeves and slowly let the silk slip off my shoulders, letting it fall to the floor, exposing my red underwear, my black tail fluffy and agitated.

“Good boy. Now turn around,” he whispers, nodding his chin slightly.

My knees shaking, my eyes on my feet, I turn around. I have momentarily forgotten my search of the silver cat in my humiliation, but when I turn around, I smell his scent again—even stronger than before.

What is this? What does this mean? Is he closer? At the same time, I’m overcome with pain in my chest—an ache—nausea—perhaps from this ferocious desire inside my body. My ears perk up and my nostrils flare, and I start scanning the audience.

I realize the bidding has started, but I don’t have time to pay attention to that. I have to find that silver cat.

“Mikage!” Ryo speaks to me sharply, and I snap my head back to him. Did I miss another command? “I said, turn around! Do it slowly.” 

I obey—using the opportunity to scan the room—and I notice the group of devils is on my right, next to the owner. They are bidding on me. The thought terrifies me. A night with four devils—and they look eager to have me. I push the thought from my mind to avoid full-blown panic. Behind the platform, as I turn, I see a flash of silver—and my heart stops. As do my feet.

I lock my gaze on the vision that is the silver cat—he is quite close to the platform—perhaps only two or three rows back—but it’s definitely him, dressed in blue and black, the eye patch standing out obviously against his pale skin. He looks— _different_. He actually looks angry.

His gaze is shifting between me—and to my shock—the group of devils bidding on me. His fur is ruffled, making his tail even fuller, the fur on his ears stands up straight, accenting his small rounded ears. Those ears—I would love to lick them, the thought of taking them into my mouth is incredibly tempting—his fur looks so soft and silky... And my gods—Wait a minute—are his fangs bared?

Does he know—can he tell? He _knows_ they are devils! 

When his gaze rests on me, I feel my heart flutter up to my mouth, and I can hardly breathe. He looks— _mouthwatering_. What the hell is _wrong_ with me? My heart hurts in my chest, and I am sweaty and hot—even in this chilly room, standing in my underwear. I swallow my saliva down, and my tongue feels thick in my mouth, thinking about how it might feel to groom that fur, his hair, his—

“Mikage!” Ryo is yanking the chain attached my collar again. “Listen to me, or I’ll have to whip you.”

My ears and face lower demurely, apologetically, and I raise my eyes to him in almost a slightly flirty way. “I’m so sorry, I was distracted. I’m just—so _scared_. What was your command?”

The groomer’s face softens in an instant—what the hell? I’ve never seen him look at me like that before. Not _ever_. Did I just manage to manipulate him? A small shiver of pleasure goes through me—a tiny moment of triumph—but I keep the smile from my face.

“Turn back around this way, now,” he strokes my ears gently, almost tenderly. “Of _course_ you’re afraid. This will all be over soon. You are doing very well.”

The crowd makes some strange noise—abruptly changing the tone of what was happening earlier—and I wish I’d been paying closer attention to the bidding.

Within a minute or two, however, the manager says, “Sold! Thank you so much for your participation. Our newest treasure will be offering his services within a few days—depending, of course, on how this evening pans out for him,” there is some tittering in the crowd in response to this comment, “so don’t be disappointed if you didn’t win. See me after the auction if you’d like to put your name on the waiting list for his services.”

Who—who was the winner? I look over my right shoulder, past the owner, and I realize the four devils look incredibly upset. Well, three of them look angry, and Kaltz looks depressed, like always. Is it possible they _didn’t_ win? Did I luck out?

“Mikage!” Ryo sounds irritated now. “Pick up your robe, please.”

I am shaking, my fingers trembling, and he helps me tie it.

“Oh, your poor hands,” his voice is surprisingly gentle. He brushes my fingers. “You’ll be all right. You’re in heat, so it shouldn’t hurt too much. I’m surprised those rich guys didn’t win you, however. Come along. Let’s get you ready.”

Didn’t they win me? The rich guys—he means the devils! They didn't win!

As my robe is placed back on my shoulders and Ryo ties the obi around my waist, I’m filled with immense relief and incredible anxiety at the same time. But then, in that case, _who won?_

Was it Tokino, perhaps? A surprising shudder goes through my body when I think of the tiger cat touching me—am I really attracted to him? It must just be his kindness to me and to Tokino.

Ryo helps me off the stage, removes me from the auditorium, and leads me back through the main lobby. For the first time, I’m led upstairs and into another room, slightly larger than the tiny room that has become my home. The room has a window, a mirror, some accessories lying around, including—and I don’t want to look too closely—restraints, a whip, a strap, and a paddle, as well as the largest bed I have ever seen.

“The customer has paid for you for the entire night. Make sure you satisfy him. Be submissive, and be vocal in both pleasure and pain—don’t stifle your cries. There’s something quite pleasing in the sound of your voice. And keep in mind, if you do not please him, you will be punished— _severely_ —probably by him as well as the House.”

He pushes me down to the floor onto my knees, then tilts my chin up to look at my face.

“We’ve never sold off another whore for as much money as you made this evening, Mikage. You did very well. Just be sure to do your best tonight, and you shall have a reward.” 

He drops my chin and attaches my chain to the bed. I reach out and grab the corner of his robe before he leaves.

“Please,” I beg. “M-m-may I ask a question?”

Ryo is surprised that I’ve reached out to him, and he turns to look at me. I must look rather desperate and afraid. I am—I’m shaking.

What if it was that horrible blond cat? All the customers who have touched me over the past week are flooding my mind, all those hands and faces blending together. 

“Don’t be so afraid, Mikage,” Ryo strokes my ears. “You will do well. Actually, your fear is quite lovely, too. Yes, you may ask."

“Wh-who w-won the auction?” I almost don’t want to know, and the moment the questions falls from my lips, I'm sorry I asked. 

“Unfortunately, it _wasn’t_ your merchant friend. I’m sorry about that. They were outbid quite early. The winner bid out from underneath the rich group twice in the last moment, waiting till their funds were depleted. I haven’t seen him before, but the owner seemed to recognize him. He looks like a Setsuran bounty hunter, pale with long white fur, wearing an eye patch. He doesn't look particularly friendly, but he’s handsome enough. You should have no problem with attraction, that’s for sure.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mikage can smell the silver cat's scent in the audience but doesn't see him at first. The scent is getting him all worked up, since he's both in heat and hopped up on aphrodisiacs. As he's looking for him, he's led past the four devils who are there to bid on him, much to his horror. They whisper about him "choosing" one of them.
> 
> Also, he smells the cat with tiger stripes--sitting with TOKINO--right there. Mikage begs Ryo--offering him anything--in exchange for a few words with his friend. Ryos complies, giving him two minutes.
> 
> A rather painful exchange between Tokino and Konoe--who asks his friend to leave before the devils cause a scene--although he is thankful for the help. 
> 
> The auction begins with Mikage on display up on a pedestal, and he is asked to remove his robe. Mikage resists, but agrees and obeys after being threatened with a public beating after which he will be stripped anyway.
> 
> When he turns around--he spots the silver cat in the audience, much to his surprise, and the heat in his body really reacts to him. (Mikage doesn't know this, so he just feels a little ill.) He is so distracted that he misses who actually wins the auction, and Ryo assures him that it's the handsome silver cat--not his friend, unfortunately. He gets all the reminders again, about being submissive and pleasing the client, but Mikage (Konoe) is confused. Why would a cat like him be bidding at a place like this at all?


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Konoe's evening begins--and he finally gets to meet this handsome silver cat, who saved him from the devils.

I’m left alone in the room, and since no one is here to watch me, I don’t have to kneel on the floor by the bed, but I remain where I am.

My choices are:

  1. get up and see how far my chain will reach,
  2. wait for this evening’s master on the bed, like a _real_ whore,
  3. pace the floor—which is what I really want to do—or
  4. remain kneeling and try to get my heart rate under control.



Therefore, I stay where I am, kneeling, in front of the bed. I try taking some deep breaths. Of course, that doesn’t work. I just feel like I’m going to pass out.

I stay still for as long as I possibly can—about five entire minutes—before I feel like insects are crawling under my skin. Then I get up and start to pace. I find out how far my chain will reach, and it doesn’t reach the door, nor the other side of the bed. I press my hands on the bed and consider lying down. It’s very, very soft—softer than the bed I had at home, softer than anything I’ve ever slept on—and my heart breaks a little.

My ears perk up toward the door when I hear footsteps on the stairs. Wait—I shouldn’t be able to hear those. So why can I? Isn’t this room supposed to be sound-proof? Or are only the _walls_ sound-proof? Will others be able to hear me if I don't stifle my voice as Ryo suggested? 

My body is covered in goosebumps and shivering, I quickly take my place on the floor, kneeling next to the bed, feeling like my heart is in my mouth. I feel like I might be sick.

I know it’s the same silver cat—there can only be one with that description. White cats are just as rare as black cats in this world, only _they_ are considered lucky. Unlike me.

I lower my face to the ground and lower my butt to my ankles. Hopefully, this will disguise some of my shaking, but my tail won’t be still. Shit—it’s too late to grab it and press it beneath my legs since the door is already opening. 

Ryo has accompanied the silver cat to the door, and he shoots me a look—I don’t look up, but I can feel it resting heavily on me.

“He is not yet properly trained, and he has bitten and scratched guests in the lobby, I should warn you. You have plenty of implements here if you find a punishment is needed, but he was already punished severely for those infractions. However, he is in dire need of a heavy hand.”

“That won’t be a problem.”

Ah—that voice! I’d forgotten what a nice voice he has. It makes my ears tingle and twitch, and I’m sorely tempted to look up at his face when he talks. But I keep my face lowered toward the floor.

“I’m sure you won’t have any problems. Enjoy your evening, and thank you for your business. Please—let us know if you require any… _assistance_.” That last phrase was a warning meant for me, I know it. I _heard_ you, I _heard_ it, and it takes everything inside me not to click my tongue in irritation.

But to my surprise, my tongue actually clicks anyway—just as the door closes.

Shit. Was it loud enough to hear? That was a mistake.

It’s really, really quiet in here, and I can’t see anything with my face pointed toward the floor. As far as I can tell, he is in here—I detect his scent and it’s dizzying, almost—making me feel a little weird, almost faint. But I don’t hear anything. I think he must still be standing at the door.

“Was that you?” His voice is much closer than I expected. He _moved_ —and made not a sound.

I’ll just deny it. That’s it. I keep my eyes focused on my hands, which are each gripping the other tightly. I swallow—so much saliva—am I drooling? Gods. And I open my mouth. 

“Yes. I apologize. I just swallowed loudly.”

I hear a sound I haven’t heard in some time, and it tickles my ears again—it’s such a wonderful sound. It’s muffled laughter.

“That’s a lie. You actually clicked your tongue at him! I heard it clear as day! Are you stupid or just willful? With a _client_ in the room, you clicked your tongue at your handler, right _after_ he said you needed discipline!” He sounds slightly amazed.

Is he laughing at me? I’m confused. I’m not sure if my feelings are hurt or not, but nothing about this is funny. This is my life now, and if I get in trouble for this, I may not be able to walk for days. 

“Things are suddenly started to make a _lot_ more sense—like when I first met you. Your ass was being paddled raw. _Now_ I understand how that might have happened.” 

I raise my eyes sharply and meet his pale blue stare. He’s actually smiling. It’s a genuine smile that makes his eye sparkle. It’s truly beautiful, and it makes my heart flutter, among the other parts of my body that it affects. But I’m irritated that he thinks this is funny.

“You have no idea what was going on then, and you have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about.”

The words from my mouth shock me, but this cat, even as beautiful as he is, irritates the _shit_ out of me.

“Don’t I?” He walks a little closer to me. “Then…”

He grabs my chain and roughly pulls me up to my feet.

“Why don’t you drop this fake little submissive act of yours and enlighten me?” 

When he’s standing this close to me like this—now—I realize the real difference in our statures. He’s really tall—lean and tall—but huge. And he's really strong. And I find him terribly attractive when he's this close to me. I can't stand how attractive I find him. Why does he have to be so annoying?

“I-i-i apologize,” I say, dropping my eyes again. I’m backing down, trying to quell my anger. My body is shaking with rage, but I think I can pass it off as fear. “I’m very new to this—it’s my first time—and I’m sorry. I spoke out of turn, and I spoke rudely.”

He lifts my chin up with his fingers, making me meet his gaze again.

“Yeah, I don’t believe one word of that. Not for a second. First, your body is shaking with rage, not fear, which I find slightly irksome."  
  
First, irksome? He's one to talk! And second, he wants me to be afraid of him? I mean, yeah, he’s intimidating as hell. I just want to make it through tonight in one piece and  _not_ have to get the shit beaten out of me tonight or tomorrow. 

He releases my chain and sits down on the bed, scooting back against the headboard, and starts removing his boots. Oh, gods, he’s not taking off his clothes, is he? Shit.

“You don’t mind, do you?” he glances up at me, slightly mischievously.

“It’s not my room,” I answer, and I think, but resist adding, _why would I give a shit?_  And why the fuck is my body _still_ not cooling off? I’m angry—and yet—he is _so_ attractive.

“Join me, why don’t you?”

I jerk my head in his direction reflexively. It’s spoken so casually, I almost miss it. Does he mean—

“Sit.” He gestures to the bed.

Oh. Relieved, I lower myself to the edge of the bed and drop the shoes from my feet. They are _killing_ me. I pull my legs up underneath me and put my hands in my lap.

“So formal. You look like you should be so well-behaved.”

A burst of anger shoots through my body at his comment, and I try to remain calm, but I know he sees me flinch. My tail lashes angrily against the bed.

One boot drops to the floor, and he starts working off the other.

“You don’t hide your emotions very well. You know, brash cats die young.”  
  
“You know, fuck _you_. Death is the least of my worries right now.” The words fall from my lips before I can stop them. Shit—not again! I just told a client to go fuck himself! Too late, I cover my mouth with my hand. “Ah—wait—I’m sorry—I’m sorry—I shouldn’t have said that.”

He laughs again, dropping his second boot to the ground.

“You’re obviously _not_ sorry, but I’m surprised you’re so easily provoked. I only want to talk to you and ask you some questions. _First_.”

First? What does _that_ mean? Before he fucks me? Another shiver goes through my body, and this one is definitely _not_ from anger. Why am I still responding to him like this? He's obviously an asshole. Doesn't my body understand that? What the hell is wrong with me?

He starts to unbuckle some of the many buckles on his outfit—gods, there are a lot—and I realize I am staring. I’m watching him undress. His fingers move in such an elegant way, I find myself imagining how they might feel against my skin, or undoing the tie on my robe, or stroking my hair. Do I want him naked? I’m afraid, yes, but at the same time, I can’t seem to pull my eyes away. I'm doing it again, and I feel slightly disgusted with myself, but way more turned on than I am disgusted.

“Perhaps we didn’t quite get off to the right start. Look—maybe I should just come out with it.”

Please do. I mean, my hopes have already been dashed. Plus, the amount of disgust and confusion I’m currently feeling couldn’t possibly get any worse.

“Why do you have four devils interested in you?”

I look at his face. His expression is calm and even like he’s asking the most natural thing in the world. That’s right—he was watching them in the auditorium.

“You do know those four are devils, don’t you?”

“Yes, I’m not a fucking idiot,” I’m a little miffed he would think I _wouldn’t_ know.

“I see.” He doesn’t sound convinced. “So, why are they after you?”

I sigh deeply. “I don’t know. I think they have been pursuing me since leaving my hometown—”

“Which is?”

“Does it _matter_?”

“Would you rather hide it? I _know_ you aren’t Kiran. I know your fur probably hasn’t always been black, that those markings look like a curse, I know devils seek out those with whom they have contracts, and that your name isn’t Mikage— _Konoe_.”

I’m shocked to hear my name from his lips. I’m also shocked at how wonderful it sounds, and how much my body responds when he says it. My heart leaps when the word floats into my ears, and my stomach has butterflies. And then my dick twitches. I sure hope he can’t tell. How does he even know—

“You told me the first day we met.”

“Oh.” I guess I remember. I was beaten for that as well. I start to cool off a little. “Karou.”

“What?”

“My hometown. It’s Karou. Where are you from?”

“Setsura.” I was right. It’s where those large breeds are from, and they are known for raising fierce fighters.

“I woke up one morning after having a series of nightmares—about a snake—four nights in a row. My fur was black, and I had these markings on my arms and legs.”

“What about your tail?”

“What about it?”

“Has it always had that shape?”

My tail thumps against the bed, irritated. He’s just met me and he’s pointing out my weakness? “As long as I can remember, yes.” I grit my teeth, trying not to say anything rude.

“I haven’t ever seen a tail that shape before.” 

I don’t say anything.

The silver cat has removed his weapons—he is carrying a dagger and a longsword that looks as big as me—and placed them gently on the side of the bed. _Opposite_ of where I am, I notice. I wonder if he’s afraid of me reaching for them and stabbing him in the night. At this point, perhaps he _should_ be. He treats them carefully, almost lovingly, I notice. He’s also removed his cape, displaying his black and blue shirt which fits his chest so snugly—oh—I drop my eyes. I shouldn’t be looking, and as soon as I look away—

My tail is grabbed, and a small electric-like shock surges through my body.

It’s been grabbed so many times this week, I should be used to it by now, but he  _startles_ me. He was just leaning against the headboard, but now, he’s right _here._ He didn’t make a sound when he moved—I mean, how do you move on a bed and not even make a single sound? How does a cat _that_ size move without making any noise?

I can’t help myself, and I hiss, baring my fangs.

He isn’t hurting me. In fact—he is brushing the fur on my tail quite gently—at the tip—running his fingers through the fur, almost like he’s grooming it. It really doesn’t hurt at all. In fact—if anything… it feels really good.

So... why am I hissing?

I need to stop, or I will be beaten beyond recognition tomorrow. I stop and pull my lips over my fangs. I shiver when he runs his fingers through my fur.

“You can feel that?”

“Well, can’t _you_ feel in _your_ tail?”

“Ho—so sensitive.” I wonder how he means it. Does he think _I'm_ sensitive, or is my _tail_ sensitive? He tilts his head and leans back against the headboard. “So you woke up with these markings and black fur one morning.”

“Last week.”

“Just last week?” The silver cat’s ears perk up. They are really cute—I mean, this is a huge cat—he is dignified, elegant, beautiful, and so fucking annoying—and the _only_ cute thing about him are these little rounded ears. I have an incredibly strong urge to lick them. I want to lick them so, so much. I feel almost dirty because how bad I want to lick his ears. It feels wrong, somehow. I shift uncomfortably on the bed.

“You have funny-looking ears,” I say suddenly.

My comment is greeted with a smile. “Well, from my perspective, don’t you think _you_ might have the strange-looking ones? And your ears are _much_ too big for your head. You look like you haven’t grown into them yet. Are all cats in Karou your size?” 

I think I should be offended, but I _did_ start this conversation, so I don’t respond to the insult. “I’m a normal size for Karou,” I lie through my teeth. Truthfully, I'm a little short in my hometown, too, but what he doesn't know isn't going to hurt him.

“Ho, cute. What a cute little village it must be,” the silver cat marvels. “But—they probably didn’t like those markings very much, did they?”

“No,” I answer. “I was scheduled to be the—um, village sacrifice, and I was going to escape, but I couldn’t leave in time. They found me.”

“Sacrifice?”

“My village, it’s starving. Once a month, a cat is selected to be killed and eaten for meat. I had been selected, but when they saw my markings, they just wanted to kill me. My friend and his father, a merchant, who live in Ransen, came to take me with them that day but were late. The merchant ended up trading his goods for me and sold me to make up for the cost.”

The silver cat stares at me.

“Your friend’s father sold you to this place?”

“He was cleaned out, and he had to make his money back somehow, and they planned to buy out my terms as soon as they could. However, as soon as I was cleaned up and displayed, the owner changed his mind. There was some—interest, I guess.” 

“And the timing was perfect, wasn’t it?” The cat looks at me. “You look a little worse for wear.”

“Timing?”

“Considering the season?”

“Oh, you mean, because I’m in heat?”

“Well, if you want to put it so crassly, yes.”

I didn’t know it was crass. Well, _sorry_ about that.

“I think it’s because of what they gave to me earlier—” and that just popped out of my mouth. I realize I don’t want to talk about it, nor how it was given to me.

“You were _given_ something? An aphrodisiac?” Again, he sounds slightly amazed.

“Yes, in case someone who wasn’t compatible purchased me.”

“Well, they needn’t have bothered. You know, you act like you don’t know much about this.”

No shit. I know _nothing_ about this. Isn't that the definition of a virgin? What the fuck did he think he was buying? I try to keep the contempt out of my voice.

“Mom died when I was five, and I never met my dad. I lived alone in Karou. I had no one there. The other cats avoided me, probably hoping I would die, so they could take my land. So _no_ , I _don’t_ know anything about this.”

He’s quiet for a moment, watching me carefully. He said they didn’t need to bother with the aphrodisiac. Does that mean—he doesn’t plan on _doing_ anything? Isn’t he interested? Oh, shit, I’ve _really_  offended him? I wonder—he doesn’t look angry. But I start to worry about whether he will tell the owner how horrible I’ve been. 

“So—the devils found you here? How? What do they want?”

“I have no idea. So far, I think it’s to make my life miserable. But—how do you know they are devils? No one else seems to be able to tell.” 

“I’m a bounty hunter,” he replies evenly. “It’s important to know these things in my line of work.” So—he’s one of _those_ bounty hunters? The kind that hunts demons? Holy shit.

“They’ve each hinted that I have to make a choice about something, and they’d planned on buying my evening tonight. They looked a little miffed that you purchased me out from under them.”

Why did he purchase me, I wonder?

He laughs again. “That they did.”

His laughter has such a nice, warm sound, and his smile is extraordinarily attractive. I love the way his eye lights up when he smiles genuinely. I should probably stop staring so much. I realize with some surprise that I am returning his smile. I notice because it's been such a while since I've smiled, it feels weird on my face.

“Say,” I ask. “Are you—um, are you going to tell the owner that I spoke rudely to you? Or that I bared my fangs and hissed at you?”

“Should I?”

“Please, please don’t.” I don’t realize how desperate I sound until the words leave my mouth. “ _Please_.”

“Is there a particular reason?” he asks, calmly.

“I will be beaten if I fail to please you,” I admit. “Honestly, I don’t think I’m cut out for this kind of work,” I breathe the last sentence with a sigh.

“If it helps, I don’t think you’re cut out for it, either,” the silver cat replies. “But I don’t think you should be beaten. So far, I'm quite pleased.”

“Why—um—uh, never mind. I’m not supposed to talk unless you ask me a direct question. I was told I talk too much when I first arrived here.”

“You can talk a little more if you want to,” the silver cat says, a soft smile on his lips. He has nice lips, too. Nice and full—they look almost plush. Another little shiver goes through my body because I’m thinking too hard about what his lips might feel like against mine. Or against my neck.

“What should I call you?” I burst out, breathlessly. I'm sure my arousal must be obvious by now, but I'm not the one who shelled out good money for a fuck. Is it _wrong_ to like the person who paid for me? Is this wrong? Because I can't help it, and I'm feeling so angsty about it.

“Rai.” Rai of Setsura. Maybe he isn’t _all_ bad. And he sure does _look_ pretty. And his voice _sounds_ so good. And he _smells_ so nice. Then, my brain thinks, I wonder if he _tastes_ and _feels_ as good as he looks, sounds and smells. And I see his hands reaching out to me, and I shrink back shyly.

“Um,” I duck my head, but he is much taller than I expect, with much longer limbs, and easily pulls my body closer to his, gently this time. He slowly pulls me by the legs, which I am sitting on. “Um, why did you buy me? Did you just want to ask me about the devils?”

“I was interested in the devils, partly.” His voice is a lot softer than it was a moment ago. _Partly_? So what was the _other_ part?

“Did you have to spend a lot of money?” I'm not sure I really want to know the answer to this, but I'm getting nervous now, and my mouth is just running.

“More money than I have ever spent on any other purchase in my life.” Again, the softness of his voice startles me a little.

“Oh.” I wonder what his expectations are. What if I’m not any good? Will he be disappointed? I'm sorry I asked that question. “Did you get the information you needed?” I really cannot stop talking. Maybe I really do talk too much.

“Some of it, but I think you have something else that I need,” I feel a soft touch to my ear, and a strange singeing sensation—like static electricity—flows through his finger when he touches me. Just like when he zapped me when he touched my tail! I flinch and duck my head again.

“What was that??”

“Be quiet,” he murmurs. “I think you’ve asked enough questions for now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK. I probably should have edited this chapter or sat on it a day. But this is for IcyTouch. Happy birthday. ;) (Except sorry, the sex comes next chapter.)
> 
> Lots of angst, of course, Konoe doesn't know what to expect and maybe doesn't make the best first impression. He clicks his tongue at yet another warning from Ryo, which Rai hears and is shocked by. It irritates him since Konoe thinks he is being made fun of, but that isn't really Rai's intention. Konoe also accidentally tells Rai that he "doesn't know what the fuck he's talking about" and to "fuck off" in response to the brash cats die young comment. 
> 
> It turns out Rai admits to buying him in part because of the four devils bidding on him. He wants information, which Konoe shares. In fact, he spills his entire story, beginning to now. Konoe starts to feel a little bit more comfortable, except he worries about Rai telling the owner or Ryo about his appalling behavior and he is afraid of being punished. He mentions this angst when asked about it, and permitted to speak a little more--and Rai assures him that he has been quite pleased so far. He learns Rai's name here.
> 
> When Rai touches him, Konoe feels a little singeing heat and starts to worry, getting very nervous. Rai tells him to shut up and relax.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally--Rai fucks the shit out of Konoe.
> 
> Actually, that is not an accurate description of this chapter--they kind of end up fucking the shit out of each other. :)

“What is that?” I ask again, my voice verging on panic, now that this giant cat’s arms have closed around me and are hugging me against his chest. “Why does it feel like that?” 

“I thought I told you to be quiet,” Rai’s low voice purrs in my ears—and if I liked his voice when I first heard it, gods, his voice when laced with heat and a purr has an even stronger effect. It makes my heart stop in my chest, and it is almost enough to shut me up. 

Almost, but not quite. I can’t quite read this cat’s intentions—I don’t understand what he is doing here, and why he is with me. I’m confused, and _so_ turned on my toes are curling against the mattress even before he touches me. I feel like I might be about to explode. I’m anxious because I’m afraid I may not please him. At first, I was worried about my own safety as far as pleasing him as a client goes, now I just really, really want to please him because he is this gorgeous, silver cat.

What is _wrong_ with me?

I am finding that either he is incredibly strong and able to hold me however he wants, or I’m just weak-willed and my protests are just words. For me, it’s come to a battle between my body and my mind. My heart is the one who gets to decide this time and decide it does—as soon as my ears are licked a third time with another slight electric shock.

“Please,” I whisper quietly into the broad chest my head is currently being pressed against. “Please.” I mean to ask, _please tell me what that sensation is_ —I can’t _stand_ it. It’s overwhelming, too much, overly stimulating.

“Please _what_? I think this is the most respectful you’ve been to me all evening,” the snarky comment tickles my ear and doesn’t change my heart’s decision—especially not when it’s spoken in that voice. I can hear it, he _desires_ me.

Am _I_ the other part he referenced? Did he purchase me because he desired me? For information and also his own sake, but partly because he _desired_ me? I don’t care how small a part his desire played in his decision, because tonight, I’ll be milking it for all it’s worth.

“Perhaps it’s not just your tail that is so sensitive,” the words are whispered in my ear, sending a delicious little shiver through my body, making my fur stand on end.

“Um, ah—oh,” and I stifle my cries, unsure how to respond. Is he possibly talking dirty to me? Is this what he wants _me_ to do? I couldn’t possibly. I don’t even know where to start. I could tell him what I want him to do to me—where I want him to touch me—and what _I_ want to do to him, but I can hardly make an intelligent word come out of my mouth without it being accompanied by an embarrassing sigh or gasp. The moment I press my lips together, I feel a finger on my lips, and the silver cat shakes his head.

“Don’t stifle your cries,” Rai murmurs. “I love the sound of your voice. Let it out and let me hear it.”

I’m slightly surprised by his request—mostly because Ryo was actually _right_ about something—but when asked this directly, and for this reason, I can’t really decline. I relax my jaw slightly and lean a little further into his touch.

“Why don’t you try to relax and close your eyes?”

It sounds like more of a command than a suggestion or question, especially since my currently slightly struggling body is being lowered to the mattress. I can’t help myself, and I obey. 

The moment my head touches the pillow, soft, full lips press against mine—and oh, my gods, it’s _hot_! A hand comes up behind the nape of my neck, slightly angling my head.

His tongue brushes against my lips and teeth, tracing them gently, and he slightly nips my lower lip. Another hand on my jaw encourages me ever so gently to open my mouth. I do, timidly, and am tentatively explored by a piece of this cat I haven’t yet seen—but it feels exactly like the rest of him—long, lean, and muscular. His tentativeness surprises me, as does his gentle touch. I think it surprises me enough so I open my mouth and welcome his presence.

It occurs to me that another piece of his body may shortly be invading mine in a similar fashion—in very little time—and while I’m slightly afraid, the shiver that runs through my body, the one that ruffles through my excited fur, _isn’t_ one of fear. It’s of anticipation.

As he’s kissing me, one of his hands moves to my waist, where it deftly unties the sash on my robe, pulling it from underneath my body. I feel the silk slipping past my tail, and then his cool hand parts the fabric of the robe slightly. His hand feels cold to the touch—sending a rather delightful chill through my body along with a rather loud sound of surprise, and I dare to voice a complaint against his lips.

“It’s cold.”

“Didn’t I tell you to stop talking.”

Again—it’s not a question, but a command issued and expected that I follow.

My skin shies away from the touch of his fingers, though he continues caressing my stomach and chest, for now, letting me keep the robe on my shoulders. His mouth moves from my lips to my neck. The motion feels so familiar—it feels exactly like my dream. He kissed me just like this in my dream—possessively—as though he is taking something from my skin rather than leaving a trail of kisses along the line of my throat.

The sounds coming from my mouth are filling the room like a haze—giving the atmosphere a heated, dream-like feeling. My arms are trembling, but I reach my hands up—previously unable to move, overwhelmed by new sensations—and aim for the ears on top of Rai’s head. I don’t quite make it the first time, and I get several handfuls of hair—soft and silky, like fur. He must take great care of his hair if it feels this soft.

Suddenly, I feel a strange sensation on my nipple as it’s covered by those wonderful full lips. At first, I don’t know if I like the sensation or not—but the touch stimulates me terribly, making a foreign, heavy feeling pool in my belly—unlike I’ve felt when stimulated before. The moist, wet sounds from his mouth and tongue ring in my ears and make them twitch, and I am terribly embarrassed by them—the only thing worse are those sounds from my mouth, which are echoing so strangely in the room.

However, with Rai’s head at my chest, I can reach his ears with my mouth if I crane my neck. The first taste of his ears is as delicious as the first kiss—and I immediately lick the outer edge—which is much thicker than my own ears. I wonder offhand if he probably doesn’t turn his ears inside out as often as I do when he grooms—these ears don’t work that way. But the fur is even softer than the hair on his head, and I nuzzle his inner ear while running my tongue and teeth along the edge, before I finally pull the entire ear into my mouth—which I can do without squishing it too much. 

I think I feel his shoulder lifting up slightly in defense—it’s a really strange feeling to have your ears groomed by someone else—but I love his reaction. It doesn’t deter me at all. Nor does it slow me down. I continue my rough grooming with enthusiasm, ignoring the sounds coming from my mouth and the fact that they are going right into his ear.

When Rai slips a hand along my waist, over the top of my groin, I sigh contently—I did not realize exactly how much desire I was feeling until he touches me there. A moan comes out of my mouth and I realize that this may be the first time I’m touched by someone I _also_ desire. It’s a different feeling that being touched by someone who is forcing you to be aroused—and I can’t quite explain the difference.

I feel slightly confused and stop my actions for a moment. 

“Just relax,” Rai murmurs. “I won’t hurt you.” He sits up for a moment, pulls off his shirt overhead, his silver hair spilling over his chest. A small sound drops from lips as I admire his muscle definition and abs—he is definitely well sculpted, like a statue, in my eyes. He offers a soft, smile, returning my gaze almost shyly, and he pulls my robe from my shoulders, and drops it on the floor next to his shirt. He curls his large body behind mine and pulls me in close to his chest. He feels amazingly warm against my back, and I find that my skin shivers with pleasure to his touch. It seems as though my body is physically reaching out to his, trying to touch as much of his as possible. 

His lips lower to my ear, roughly licking them, while one hand skates across my back to grasp my tail at the base. My fur fluffs up once more, almost perpendicularly. Then, the other hand wraps around my hip and sinks into my underwear, grasping my dick, which is hard and dripping.

Of course, I’ve been touched before—Froud, for example—but Rai’s touch is different. His hands are larger, and I can feel each finger as it wraps around my shaft, and my body melts into his touch. A strange-sounding purr mixed with a sigh leaks from my mouth. I curl my body into his, pushing myself up against him when he touches me. It feels _so_ good, like electricity running through my body, into my spine and pooling in my hips.

My eyes finally close and I relax, and I realize I really _want_ to be here—the decision is made. My heart is here, and it’s thumping in my chest and ears loudly.

“Rai...” his name falls softly from my lips, and I hear him purring in my ear, and his lips curve back slightly against my ear. I think he is smiling.

“Does that feel good?”

“Oh—yesss,” it comes out almost as a hiss. I can barely speak.

And then his hand starts to move, slowly, languidly, at first, matching the pace with the massage on my tail, and my cock starts to get even firmer under his fingers, dripping thick transparent drops from the slit, which he uses to coat his fingers and smooth out his touch.

I squeeze my thighs together and arch my back when I feel his tongue enter my ear rather roughly and I can’t catch my breath. I’m a slave to his movements, to his touch, to this slow rhythm. My head tips slightly toward my shoulder, trying to evade his tongue in my ear—so loud—and I can feel a hardness pressing against me from behind—straining against the fabric of his trousers right against my ass.

I know exactly what it is—and the size of it—and a rush of fear and excitement shivers through my body, making my body jerk exaggeratedly. It’s extreme enough so he stops the assault on my ear for a moment, and he whispers to me. 

“What’s the matter?”

“Uh—aaaahhhh!” I reply, as his thumb presses into the slit of my dick, just as I try to respond. That melting feeling again—it’s amazing—gentle but strong at the same time—makes me push my body back against him, and I feel him pressing impatiently against me once more, and I shiver. 

“Are you cold?”

I’m burning up with heat.

“N-nooo,” it’s hard to speak. I’m shivering with desire, and it’s hard to talk when he’s stroking me like this. He’s making my knees shake and tremble.

“You aren’t afraid of me, are you?” The words are spoken so softly, so tenderly, in such a sexy voice that it makes the fur on my ears quiver under his lips—and I feel him smiling again. “Oh, my gods—you are so adorable! So sensitive.”

He starts to lower my underwear, pulling them off my hips. I am embarrassed to be naked before him, but my legs betray me and help him. I can’t believe that I lift my hips and legs to help him disrobe me—despite my embarrassment.

“You smell so sweet—like honey,” Rai murmurs softly. “You taste like honey, like the color of your eyes, Konoe. They gave you the wrong name. There is nothing dark about you—nothing dark in you, only innocence.”

The words melt into my ears, into my heart, and somehow end up rushing straight to my hips, sending electric sparks through my body. And the sounds coming from me—they are obscene.

However—I don’t know what to do with my hands. Thus far, I have had them tightly balled up and hugged to my chest, and Rai’s hand releases my tail for a moment and comes up to one of my fisted hands.

“Are you really so afraid? Relax, Konoe. I promise I will do nothing to hurt you—unless, of course, you want me to.” There's another soft kiss to the space between my neck and shoulder. I try to relax my hands, but what should I do?

“Wh-what do you wish me to do?” I ask. “I-I-I d-don’t know what to do.” I feel tears burning in my eyes.

“I want you to relax, and enjoy the sensations,” Rai answers. “And I want to hear if you like something or dislike something I do. If you like it, be vocal. If you dislike it, please let me know.”

I see a white fluffy tail in my vision, and I reach out to grab it. I want Rai to feel good, too, but I don’t know how. He has been massaging my tail—so perhaps—this is something I can do for him.

In both hands, I grasp this tail—almost reverently—and I run my claws through it—not my fingers, but my claws. I hear a sharp intake of breath in my ear when I do this, and it gets sharper when I get toward the tip. I notice a slight stutter of breath when I touch the tip of his tail with my claws. I am very gentle, but I am using claws to keep the fur neat and also to get a precise touch.

Becoming slightly more daring, I bring the fluffy tail to my mouth, and I begin grooming that long white fur. The moment I lick it—I hear another sharp intake of breath in my ears—does this mean he likes it?

“Is this okay?” I ask, unsure of what I’m doing. It wouldn’t hurt to ask—and I know I would appreciate it as well. 

“It’s very nice,” I hear the deep voice deep in my ear. “Your tongue is so much softer than mine. It’s such a strange sensation.” I feel a slight shiver in the large body behind me when I lick the tail in my hands—and an _incredible_ sense of power, as well as a surge of delight that surges into my own hips.

Right at that moment, Rai squeezes me tight once more, pressing his thumb into my slit, and I moan again, rather helplessly.

“Because you’re in heat, I may not need to prepare you, but I am going to anyway. I know you have been hurt since you’ve been here, and I want this to be pleasurable for you. I said I would not hurt you—and more than that—I would love to hear you lose yourself in pleasure. However, this may seem a little strange. Will you let me do this for you?” 

Is he asking me for permission? I’m slightly confused. So confused, in fact, that I turn my head to look at his face. I’m glad I do—because I see that pale blue eye staring at me, and it’s full of passion and desire. There is no question he is here because he desires me. He purchased me because he _desires_ me. So—the question remains...

“Why are you asking?”

“Konoe, I am asking for your consent.”

“My consent?”

 “I am not a regular visitor to places such as this. I did purchase your... virginity, I realize. But I would like you to offer it to me because it’s  _your_ desire, not because I purchased it. If you would like me to stop now, I will. I will spend the night with you, refrain from touching you further, and let you sleep.”

That sounds terrible! I do not want to sleep. I want—I want _him_! I think—if anyone will take my virginity, I would want it to be this cat. But instead of saying those words, I ask another question.

“Why are you being so kind to me? You spent all this money on me, and yet, you do not simply take what you purchased? You could just take what you wanted without my permission, couldn’t you?”

A soft smile forms on Rai’s lips.

“But what would be the fun in that? I have a feeling about you. Is this something you want to do—with me? There is no turning back after this point.”

There is something final about Rai’s words. I wonder what he means. I pause for a moment, but only for effect. I’m already naked, after all. And willingly so. I’m hard and eager, dripping, though he isn’t touching me.

“Yes. I want this. I want _you_. I have wanted you since I first laid eyes on you that day you visited Mana.”

Suddenly, a question pops into my mind.

“Rai.”

“What is it, little one?”

“You say you don’t come to brothels, but you were here for Mana earlier. So obviously, you saw her as a client before. That’s when I first met you.”

“Ah. I was pretending to be a customer to get information from her. Her scar—she was a victim of a devil when she was a child. I paid her fee to get information from her. Also...” he stops for a moment, looking away from me.

“What?”

“I saw you again briefly after my visit as well.”

I’m astounded. I wonder—was _that_ my dream? That was the day Razel saw me. He had me declawed. I hold up my left hand.

“I was declawed that day,” I say quietly.

“You were _what_?” The voice is quiet, stern, and frightfully cold. I haven’t heard Rai’s voice drop so low in temperature before. He takes my left hand in his, gently.

“I scratched the red demon. He was frightening me, and he publicly declawed me. I think I may have been passed out when you saw me. But I dreamed of you.”

Rai kisses my hand, my palm, my bandaged finger,and shuts his eyes.

“Demons are the bane of this world. I lost my eye to a demon. I’m looking for information on where to find him. Konoe, I’m so sorry. If I had stayed with you then, you would have been fine.”

“The dream I had—of you—it’s... kind of kept me going all this time,” I say, feeling my face and ears heat up. “You... kissed me, didn’t you?”

“I did,” Rai admits. “I felt strangely drawn to you. I can’t explain it. There’s something about your voice, and I love the way you move. And you’re just so... adorable.”

My heart is about to explode. I can’t believe he thinks of me like this—and I’m naked and looking at his face while he’s saying these things to me, while his hand is touching my... well, never mind where his hand is right now. 

“Konoe, to confirm.” He removes his hand from me for a moment—or at least stops moving it. “Do I have your consent? Will you take me inside you?”

His words literally take my breath away. I won’t deny that I am afraid—terrified of what may happen, though strangely, I believe him when he says won’t hurt me. I press my lips together firmly, swallow my accumulated saliva and fear, gather my courage, meet his gaze, and reply, “Yes. You have my consent.”

Then I immediately drop my gaze, feeling my face burn.

“Enchanting.”

I hear the word spoken softly—and alone, I don’t understand its meaning. I look up and realize that Rai intends it to describe me. He finds _me_ enchanting. I don’t understand how such a creature as he could find me—covered in cursed black markings—he runs his fingers along the markings gently, even as they are in my thoughts—and my cursed black fur—and another hand strokes my tail, and his tongue gently licks my ear— _enchanting_. Why?

“Aren’t you afraid of my curse?” I ask, astounded.

“Curses can be broken, can’t they?” Rai asks. “This fur—it’s so soft and plush, silky and full. And you—you smell so good to me. Irresistible.”

The way he is speaking to me tickles my ears and tempts me like something I have never experienced before. I reach up to him and kiss him on my own accord. To have him accept me—the way I am now—cursed, dirty, filthy, as I feel—but he makes me feel attractive and precious, like I’m something valuable, calling me precious and sweet. It tugs at my heartstrings.

For the first time, I realize he will be leaving at the end of the night—come dawn, this cat will be leaving me here. I will no longer be a virgin, and I will be left to my own devices and now be a full-fledged whore at this brothel. The realization flits through my mind and then drops in my stomach like a ton of bricks, bringing tears with it—but I manage to hold them in, swallowing them down. I will not ruin this perfect night.

This is not what I expected. And I will not ruin it by thinking ahead.

 _Just live for tonight, Konoe,_ I tell myself. _Just for today_.

For a moment, I allow myself to be held in his arms, and then—well, we resume our activities, consent in place, and things are different.

“Do you want me to just go ahead, or do you want me to let you know what I will be doing?” Rai whispers gently, as his hand starts slipping a little lower than my tail. He has grabbed something from the side table—he’s opened a small jar.

I swallow again.

“I give consent, but I think I would like to know,” I say shyly. “I know nothing.”

I think I see a small smile, and Rai answers, “I will prepare you—using one of my fingers and this lubrication. It shouldn’t hurt since you are in heat. But if you are uncomfortable at any time, please tell me.”

I feel slightly strange since the only other times I have touched below my tail have been violent and non-consensual. I am slightly nervous and I stiffen a little in Rai’s arms.

“Just relax. I want to make you feel _good_. I want to hear you lose yourself in pleasure, Konoe.” And hearing that—in that low purring voice—gods—it’s enough. I relax, and I feel Rai’s lubricated and cold finger push into me, just below my tail. He pulls my tail up, giving it a swift yank and pushing me onto my side again.

When his finger enters me—it is _not_ like when I’ve been touched like this before. It feels completely different. I arch my back, leaning into the touch, and I want more. It’s a strange sensation like my body is a different creature. I can’t believe how much I want this. My voice comes out louder than it has before—almost a cry—and Rai asks, “Are you all right?”

“Ah, mmm, yes!” I answer, unable to look him in the eye. My insides are wrapping around the knuckles of his fingers, gripping him firmly, and then—gods, I feel his other hand wrapping around my cock again and starting to stroke me. 

I am melting into the sheets. I don’t know whether to follow the motions of the finger, feeling around inside me or the wonderful stroking of my dick—and then, Rai starts mauling my ear again. 

“Are you all right? It isn’t painful, is it?”

I shake my head back and forth since I can’t seem to make words out of the gasping coming from my mouth.

He has turned me back around so I am facing him again, and whispers into my ear, “I’ll be adding another finger now.”

And sure enough—that second finger is added without any problems—my insides swallow it up eagerly, and I start to pant deliciously. With two fingers inside me, he can stretch me apart and scissor me open, and every time he does that I get a little lightheaded. There’s something strange inside me, I think. Rai makes a hooking motion with his long fingers when he sees my breath hitching, and he starts dragging them slowly along my inner walls.

I want one more—and then I start to beg.

“Please, Rai,” a voice I haven’t heard from myself before comes out. “Please—don’t tease me—please, _please_.”

“Ah, do you want more?”

“Please—” What am I doing? I don’t understand my own body.

A third finger is added, and it still isn’t enough, and I hear a high-pitched whine in the room and realize it’s me.

“Ah—Please, just _please_ , I can’t, _please_ , Rai!” I can’t control the words from my lips, and I hardly recognize my voice.

Rai withdraws his fingers from me and strips off his pants. His eye—his pupil is blown wide and dark—and I know mine must be the same—and I don’t stop my begging.

“Ah, please, _please_ , please, _please_ , Rai, take me, I’m ready, please,” my voice is out of control, the words spoken in between sighs and gasps, and near sobs.

I feel an electric shock when my tail is pulled up sharply, and Rai grabs my legs, wrapping one around his waist, and pushing the other up against my chest. I’m pushed flat against the bed, and I feel him pressing against my entrance.

“Please, pl—”

He silences me with a kiss. His cock is so much bigger and hotter than his fingers—and for just a moment, I start to panic. I feel like I might be split open—this won’t be possible—he won’t fit—and I want to cry out, _stop, wait_ , and try to crawl away. 

But his arms are holding me in place, and he enters me so slowly—and gently—and he doesn’t force his way in—and he pulls away from my lips, nipping my top and bottom lip separately, and I see a fire in that pale blue eye—true pleasure—and I can’t deny him this.

“Relax, Konoe,” he whispers, against my mouth, his hand moving against my cock and against my tail, which makes me melt with heat and pleasure. I feel full—tight—snug—impossibly full.

I see his ears twitching—is it because I’m making so much noise? I’m slightly ashamed, but I can’t seem to stop, and then—and _then_ —I hear a relaxed, satisfied sigh from the silver cat above me—almost exhausted, purring, and he rests for a moment, meeting my gaze, stroking my sides, stroking my belly, stroking my hips and ass—each touch sending small shivers across my skin.

We are connected. I have taken this cat inside of me—and it is a powerful feeling. Very full, but it feels electric. I've wrapped my arms around his neck.

Then—he slowly rocks his hips. Flashes of light shoot across my eyelids, and I cry out with each thrust—unable to understand the pleasurable sensations that are coursing through my body. He continues slow rocking thrusts at first, tentative, taking my first time into consideration, watching my face, his ears twitching gently.

He slowly changes his angle and finds one particular spot inside me that sends a paralyzing, shivering chill into my spine that takes my breath away. The pleasure is so great that it’s frightening. I found each thrust pleasurable, but _this_ place—when he brushes against it—I can’t breathe—I can hardly move—it’s like being dropped off a cliff into a chasm of pleasure without limit. 

Tears pool reflexively in my eyes, and I hear him say, “There we go,” just as I am saying, “No, no, no,” from being almost overly stimulated.

“You don’t like it?” He isn’t slowing down, in fact, he starts to pick up his pace. “If you really don’t like it, I will stop. But your voice and body are saying different things, Konoe.”

It drives me crazy when he calls my name.

“Rai, please—please—Rai... Rai... Rai!”

It doesn’t take long for me to reach my limit. The pleasure in my body is swirling around, and Rai is pounding into me, and my vision goes blank—and I feel his lips on mine right when I climax—I release pressed between our stomachs, the pleasure and relief like nothing I’ve experienced before, shooting out to my limbs in waves.

Rai thrusts his hips a few more times and his body trembles and shivers, and a loud growl is released when I feel his climax inside of me—I feel him release inside of me, too—such an odd sensation. He relaxes and rests his large and heavy body on top of me, my legs wrapped around him like a puzzle.

I’m a mess of sweat and fur and fluids, and I’m still trembling, but Rai waits for a little before he pulls out, and brings his body up beside me. I feel as energetic as a wet noodle, but Rai pulls me into his arms, my back into his chest, smelling my hair, my neck, my ears, and I simply relax, shivering slightly to his gentle touches.

I feel much cooler now, very relaxed—and my body aches are gone. Is that really all you need to cool off the heat? I hate to admit how much I’m enjoying being held in Rai’s arms right now, feeling his strong heartbeat against my back, and his even breathing, up and down. He soothes me.

“Please,” I whisper, a tear sneaks down my face. “Will you take me with you? I will do _anything_ you want, whenever you want. I will—” I swallow thickly. “I will be yours if you would just take me with you.” I try to suppress a sob, but I’m afraid it comes out anyway. 

“Don’t cry,” Rai says. “Please, don’t cry.”

A hand comes up to my face, brushing my cheek.

“I would love nothing more. I’m working on it. I promise you, I will take you out of here.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took me a lot longer to write than I had anticipated and it didn't come out as I'd originally planned, although I am pleased with the end results. I think the characters maybe went a little off-script, although--we haven't seen much of Rai this fic yet, so I thought I had a little wiggle room, and I wanted to try something different. 
> 
> I'd love to hear your thoughts.
> 
> I'll be starting Part II shortly. (This is the end of Part I, but not the end of the story.)
> 
> So Rai basically starts grooming Konoe without his consent--which Konoe enjoys quite a bit even if it freaks him out a little--and Rai tells him to let out his voice, relax and close his eyes for a while. He promises not to hurt Konoe--and actually, OMFG, askes for fucking consent before having sex. Yes, he paid for it, but he wants Konoe to give him his cherry of his own free will. Rai admits that he was drawn to Konoe the first day he saw him and interfered on his behalf--partly because of his voice.
> 
> Konoe is delighted--can't believe how well things are going--and the world comes crashing down when he thinks that Rai will be gone by morning. However, he allows himself to enjoy this night. And he does enjoy it, very much.
> 
> After they finish, Konoe basically begs Rai to get him out of here, in tears, saying he would do anything--promising himself to Rai if he would help him.
> 
> Rai comforts him and assures him he is already working on a plan.


End file.
